Refraction
by canihavea-soda
Summary: There are some feelings that can never be expressed...as Lucius Malfoy well knows. He is constantly tormented by the very thing he can never have. Slash. Violence. Rape. Murder. Substance abuse. Angst. You are warned.
1. Refraction

**Refraction**  
  
_Disclaimer: Pick up your nearest copy of Harry Potter. Read the name of the author. Unless someone has scribbled it out and written canihavea-soda on there, I don't believe these characters are mine... What do you mean they have? Let me see that!  
  
My only explanation for this is my despicable interest in the Malfoys...and the fact that I have been whoring on Lucius/Draco fiction for the whole day, and now I want to amuse myself by trying it out. I apologise in advance. Also, the characters will probably be very OOC. Since we never actually get to see the Malfoys in their home environment...  
  
We have feelings that shouldn't ever be expressed verbally, Lucius with tormented past, Narcissa the 'whore with breeding', and Draco being a general teenager. The rating is there because I'm being cautious, and I really have no idea how far this thing will go._

* * *

The Malfoy residence was usually quiet in the early morning, suffering only the chirruping of the distasteful sparrows that would insist on roosting in the east tower, to break the perfect lack of sound that blanketed the manor. They had managed two clutches already that year, and might already be brewing their third – yet, they were allowed to stay because Narcissa Malfoy had always taken an interest in the conservation of wildlife. She also adored the fact that the dear creatures have taken up residence above the sleeping quarters of the staff (mostly house-elves, but also a couple of witches who never deemed it necessary to graduate from any magical school).  
  
One of those dear sparrows decided to launch itself from the moss-encrusted tiles of the tower roof, and wheeled about in the heavily scented morning air, cutting the summer haze with chirps of surprising volume, considering its diminutive size. Its flight path carried it over the kaleidoscope of colours that was the rose garden, and then towards the north wing, which was just beginning to be hit by the sun.  
  
It was those very sounds that caused a pair of grey eyes to open, and squint in abhorrence at the morning sun, that had managed to take full advantage of a gap between lush velvet curtains of deep, forest green. The sunlight cut through an otherwise gloomy room, and was too intense for the grey eyed one to even comprehend the idea of ignoring it.  
  
Cursing the world at large, Draco Malfoy forced himself to sit up in bed. A glance at the fine old grandfather clock (laced with magic so that it would only tick and chime when its owner was awake) told him that the hour was coming up to seven. Seven! It seemed as though that hour of the morning had ceased to exist in the past two weeks that he had been back at home, enjoying the luxurious boredom of a summer holiday _not_ spent abroad. Of course, had he been back in school, it would have been a different matter. He would probably have already forced those two oafs, Crabbe and Goyle, from their beds, and have planned a store of insults for that mud-blood Granger, before six o'clock rolled around.  
  
However, when it comes to holidays, all teenagers like to take full advantage of the fact that they can sleep all day, and no one, but no one, will dare to disturb them. Unless of course that person happens to be a complete imbecile...or has nothing to fear. When Draco managed to extract himself from the gratuitous amount of cushions he was leaning against, he was able to see the whole expanse of his room. This meant he was also able to see his father, standing next to the cord of the same velvet curtains who had betrayed him by allowing the sun in.  
  
It took only a brief moment for Draco to decide that his father fell into the second category. Though, he did smile internally at the idea of pegging his own father an imbecile. Externally, however, he decided to display annoyance – sadly broken by a wide yawn. "What _(yawn)_ do you want, father?" Lucius remained motionless, his hand resting idly on the curtain cord. Draco's grey eyes narrowed as he hazarded a shrewd guess as to what might happen next. Bracing himself, he narrowed his eyes further to protect against the ubiquitous sunlight.  
  
"Well, Draco, I thought that it might be an idea if you actually left this room at sometime before noon," Lucius said derisively. "After all, I don't believe it can be healthy for you to stew in here all day." With that justification only just leaving his lips, he tugged upon the cord, and Draco's eyes were assaulted with the terrible brightness that was the sun. He groaned, and turned away, burying his head in one of the numerous plush cushions he had so recently slept upon. "Draco, I expect you to be in the dining room in half an hour. Don't be late."  
  
Draco groaned again, and the door shut with a click behind his exiting father. "Evil...stupid..." he grumbled, groggily leaving the bed and stumbling into the bathroom. "Why shouldn't I be able to-? ...Malfoy after all... Be able to do what...want to do..." he carried on grousing to himself. Then, he exchanged his rumpled pyjamas for the cold jet of the shower.  
  
The icy cascade cleared his head somewhat, and he wondered what on earth could be important enough for his father to come and wake him personally. Then, a chill even colder than the water pummelling his aristocratic self, ran down his spine. _Surely not...only sixth year after all...he wouldn't. Would he? Death eaters..._ A shudder was allowed to run through him unrepressed, and he hurried his shower along, suddenly finding it unbearable to remain in a room decked out in such Slytherin colours.  
  
_At least the dining room isn't so bloody...green..._ He thought, as he withdrew a towel of that very despised colour from a pile of them on the low stone windowsill. Outside, he could see the sun casting warm golden light across the grounds, and he smiled tightly. _Perhaps I can escape out with my Nimbus 2001 and avoid 'the talk'._ Of course, he knew he wouldn't defy his father like that – Lucius had never risen a hand against his son before – but there was always a first time for everything...  
  
When Draco was sure that he was as dry as he was going to get without magic, he meandered back into his (terribly Slytherin) bedroom. The sun was still spilling across the silver carpet, and he avoided the rays like the plague as he made his way to the grand oak wardrobe that held all his clothes. He was so intent on avoiding that patch of sunlight, that he forgot about the schoolbooks he had left out from doing work the previous night.  
  
With a resounding crash, he found himself lying full-length on the floor, a quill sticking painfully into his stomach. "Shit!" he yelped, pulling said writing implement from his abdomen. Luckily, it had only drawn a little blood, and he rubbed it with a grimace. Then, he picked himself up off of the floor, and re-wrapped the towel around his waist, before continuing on his quest to find suitable clothing. _Stupid house-elves should have cleaned that up by now._ He decided to press his father on the matter – all of the staff seemed to have become slack recently.  
  
The matter was pushed away from his mind when he came to his ridiculously large wardrobe. He flung both of the doors open, and was assaulted by designer label after designer label. Most of the clothes were ones he hadn't yet worn. _I see mother went shopping again,_ he thought, shaking his head in dazed amusement. Thrusting both arms into the mass of fine cloths, he grabbed two items at random.  
  
They turned out to be a terribly clashing pair of light beige cotton slacks, and a khaki dress shirt. _Let's try that again._ Draco put them both back on the rail, and then rifled through the rest of the clothes, looking for something with a label that wasn't too obvious. He happened upon a pair of old jeans that his mother had obviously missed out whilst 'clearing out' his wardrobe, as well as a plain white tee-shirt. A short fantasy of turning up in the dining room like that flitted across his mind. But, that wouldn't be proper.  
  
Sighing, he threw the old clothes onto the bed, with the intent of changing into them after breakfast. Then, he drew out a fashionable pair of 'casual' black trousers and a dark grey button up shirt. _Well, at least its not as bad as dinner-wear,_ Draco thought to try and cheer himself up.  
  
Checking upon the grandfather clock, he saw that even with all his trouble with finding clothes, he still had quarter of an hour left. _And, allowing the five minutes it will probably take to get to the dining room, that still leaves me ten minutes to kill..._ He hurriedly pulled on his smart clothes, felt like a prat for having to dress like this in his own home, and then went over to his school trunk.  
  
He tapped the mahogany lid twice, and it automatically drifted open, revealing an assortment of school oddities. The one that he felt most proud of, was the bust of an old school-master that he had pilfered from the trophy room two years ago, and that no one had yet noticed was missing. However, he ignored that for today, and took out his copy of 'Hogwarts: A history'. After hearing that mud-blood Granger quoting the damn book, day in, day out, he had decided he'd read it. Then at least he'd be able to fire back something more creative than 'mud-blood' once in a while. _When even I realise an insult is losing its charms, it must be terrible,_ he thought, flicking through to the chapter about some of the better-known resident ghosts of Hogwarts.  
  
When he next raised his grey eyes to meet the blank stare of the clock face, he saw that the minute hand was teetering dangerously close to the half hour. He slammed the book shut, and tipped it onto the luxurious sheets of his bed. Then, he ran to the mirror that sat above an effeminate dressing table that he heated, but his mother adored, and ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. Then, when he was sure that he looked at the very least presentable, he hurried out of his room.

* * *

Lucius yawned widely, tipping back in his chair and putting boot-clad feet onto the dining table. He had the slight inkling that his son would be late, and tsked to himself. Narcissa popped her platinum haloed head around the door, and he started slightly. Realising that it was only his wife, he just smiled wanly. "Yes dear?" he queried politely, knowing full well what she was about to say.  
  
"Just going out with some girl-friends Luc – I'll be back for supper." He cringed at the nickname, and then waved at her retreating back. He paid close heed to her practiced dainty strides, and raised his eyes to the heavens. _Thank **God** I wasn't born a woman. Finishing school, having children..._he shuddered internally, glad that he at least had had the good fortune to have a son. They were so much less expensive to care for. No wedding expenses, and not a knut to be wasted on finishing school.  
  
_Though, with some of the things he comes out with, I do wonder if it mightn't do him good,_ Lucius thought. His eyes ponderously traced the woven patterns of the tapestry on the opposite wall, depicting St Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland. He had always enjoyed the sweet irony of that image, and he now allowed himself to indulge in a broad grin as he looked at it.  
  
Tearing his eyes away from the dancing threads, he glanced at the heavy, and thus very expensive, timepiece on his left wrist. The diamonds set around the clock-face dazzled him slightly, but he was still able to see that it was now thirty-two minutes past seven. He shook his head, and took his feet from the table. Immediately, a house-elf clad in a tea towel and pillow-case combination, came and wiped the shining wood, so that all evidence of Lucius' un-gentlemanly actions were wiped out.  
  
He nodded curt thanks to the house-elf, which returned with a bow, and then scurried away as quickly as its stubby legs would allow. _You're beginning to go soft Lucius,_ he scolded himself. _Thanking staff indeed?_ Ah, if his own father was only here to see that... _He'd probably flay me to within an inch of my life..._ Lucius quickly steered away from that area of his past – it was those very years that had led him to swear to never raise a hand against his son.  
  
_And yet...I've gone and made the same bloody mistake as my father..._ He thought ruefully, polishing his already spotless watch on his sleeve. It was now thirty-three minutes past, and he heard the sound of feet pattering on the marble floor of the hallway. He managed to contain a chuckle, and set his face in stern annoyance. Even before his son had pushed the door open, he called out, "You're late, Draco."  
  
"Sorry father," Draco answered, entering the room, and hurrying over to the table. He looked slightly flushed, and Lucius pinched the skin of his left hand in-between the thumb and forefinger of his right. _You're his father – don't make the same mistakes as your own old man!_ Outwardly, he was as icy as ever. "Do sit down – I've had the elves keep the food warm for us." Right on cue, two house-elves waddled out of – well, it seemed like nowhere really, but Lucius knew they'd just wandered out of the servant's passage to the kitchens.  
  
"Thank you," Draco murmured to the house-elf that handed him his plate of French toast and cup of steaming black coffee. (His mother had managed to create a sort of addiction to French food in Draco, and Lucius had never been able to bring his son back to the idea of a full-English breakfast.) Lucius raised an eyebrow at Draco, but the boy didn't notice, as he was too absorbed in adding cream to his coffee, and then handing the small pitcher back to the house-elf serving him.  
  
The house-elf with Lucius' food deposited a rack of toast on one side, and a pot of tea (Earl grey) on the other. Before he could stop himself, he too had muttered a quiet, "thank you," to his own house elf. Draco's spoon collided with the side of his china cup, resulting in a ringing sound, and Lucius looked up to meet the stunned gaze of his son. He raised his eyebrow once more, and Draco returned his attention to his French toast.  
  
_Get a hold on yourself!_ Lucius raged, whilst also applying copious amounts of jam to his slices of toast. He covertly spied upon his son, who was daintily nibbling on his own breakfast, and felt rather oafish with his mouth full with jam and heated bread. He swallowed the mouthful quickly, and then tried to emulate the effeminate eating habits of his son.  
  
_'Effeminate?' Oh God! Lucius, you have just got to stop thinking._ He felt panicked by his attentions to his only child, and studied his own breakfast as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. He poured himself a cup of Earl grey, and added a slice of lemon that was dropped onto his tray a few seconds before he reached for it. The efficiency of his staff was something that would have amazed an outsider, but, for someone who had grown up with it, it was just the normal service. He stirred the lemon slice in the amber liquid, and then sipped the warming brew.  
  
His son had already finished his meal, and Lucius could see that he was itching to leave the table. However, his upbringing had at least taught him manners, so he sat placidly, waiting for his father to finish his own meal. Feeling a burst of compassion (most likely fuelled by the desire to remove Draco from his sight before he did something untoward to the boy), Lucius put down his cup. "You may leave if you wish." He saw his son's eyes widen ever so slightly at this revelation.  
  
"...are you sure father? I don't mind-"  
  
"Of course – go and enjoy the sun whilst it lasts," Lucius said, waving his hand casually. "Just make sure you're in for lunch."  
  
"I will," Draco nodded, pushing back his chair from the table, and getting up to leave. Lucius watched his son go, straight-backed and proud in his grandly carved chair. However, as soon as the door clicked closed behind Draco, he slumped in the chair, and put his head in his hands. _This cannot be happening._ He inhaled deeply, and then returned to his toast, trying to rescue a scrap of reality as he knew it.  
  
_I will not be making the same mistake as my own father... The bastard..._ He decided, though the rest of his body would not comply with his decision. Sighing heavily, he too evacuated his seat, and, as calmly as he could, he made his way out of the dining room. His palms were sweaty, and he clenched them into fists, feeling quite helpless. For someone who had been serving the dark-lord for over half of his life, this was a feeling that was quite new to Lucius Malfoy.  
  
He un-balled the fist of his right hand, and shakily ran his fingers through his hair. This managed to dislodge the tie that had been holding it in place, and the whole mass of blond strands collapsed haphazardly around his face. He thought about putting it back up, but then decided it would be more hassle than it was worth. _I think I'll take a leaf out of Draco's book,_ he thought, smiling fondly at the thought of his son. Then, he moved towards the stairs that led to the upper floors of the manor, and tread the familiar path to the rooms that he had used to share with Narcissa, up until only a few years ago.  
  
It just hadn't seemed prudent after...recent..._discoveries_...on his part...to carry on sharing rooms with the woman. And, it wasn't the discovery that had been waking him in the middle of the night, and that had forced him to greet his son that morning. No, it was more the discovery that his wife was pretty much a whore with breeding. _Not that it was completely unexpected...but she could have at least tried to be a little more reserved over the whole thing._ Lucius knew that she had never been pleased with her match to the Malfoys, but had only been drawn by the vast fortune that Lucius would inherit.  
  
He shrugged. He probably would have done the same in her position.  
  
He finally came upon the doors into his apartments, and nudged them open with a toe. He waited, to see if anyone was in the room (he really wasn't in the mood to contest the repartee of a death eater at this hour of the morning). Finding no welcoming call, he entered the room, and then breezed past his personal study and into his bedroom. There, he collapsed onto the bed, clapping thrice to turn on the nifty muggle stereo he had bought himself for Christmas that year. Had Draco had anything of the like, he would have been outraged...but he himself was allowed to bend the rules a little.  
  
Strains of classical music filled the air, and he lazily kicked off his boots, and lifted his feet onto the bed. "Classical fm – bringing you total relaxation for your holidays," the dusky-voiced female announcer said, before putting on a piece by the great Vivaldi. Lucius closed his eyes, and followed the notes of the violins until he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Lucius opened his eyes to the last chords of an energetic violin concerto, and stretched, yawning widely. He clapped his hands thrice again, and the music abruptly turned off, leaving the room in deathly silence. "Hey! I was listening to that!" a petulant voice exclaimed. Lucius sat up abruptly, nearly throwing himself clean off the bed with his violent movements. He saw Draco lounging on the over-stuffed futon at the end of his bed. _What on- ?_ "What exactly are you doing in here Draco?" he asked, managing to keep the flustered note from his voice. "Did you want something?"  
  
Lucius was shocked when his son chuckled – _chuckled_ – tipping back his head and letting the merriment bubble over upturned lips. "You could say that, dad." Lucius blinked at that. Draco hadn't...hadn't called him...'dad'...for years... He decided to ignore the strange behaviour, and further questioned his son.  
  
"So...? What is it?" he asked, coolly capturing his hair (which was embarrassingly awry), and managing to pull it back into its usual tie. He always wore his hair like this at home...it was so much more practical than his day-to-day style... Draco hadn't yet answered his question, and Lucius prompted him again, "Draco, what is it you want? Because, if there isn't anything, I should probably get back to work in the study..."  
  
Draco tipped his head to one side, and raised his eyebrow – Lucius was startled to see his own derisive expression copied so brilliantly. "Well, actually, I'd like to speak to you in the study...so we can have a proper _chat_." Lucius felt like putting his head in his hands, so confused was he by his son's odd behaviour. _However, I suppose I should blame myself – perhaps waking him up so early has made him grumpy._ He wondered whether his son was planning to do something brave (yet stupid), like shouting at him.  
  
"I'll just go ahead and wait in the study, and you can...urm...get dressed..." Draco said, rising from the futon, and turning down the cuffs of his shirt, which had been rolled up to his elbows. Lucius was about to ask exactly what he meant, when he looked down to see that, whilst his trousers were still very much intact, his white shirt was nowhere in sight. His gaze lingered a few seconds on the pale skin, trying to remember when he had removed his shirt, and when he next looked up, Draco had disappeared.  
  
Rubbing the back of his neck, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and then stood up. Then, he made his way towards the abysmal _purple_ handled closet that Narcissa still hadn't removed from the room, and hurled the doors to it open. It was a simple matter to pick out another shirt, since he had about ten of the same style, and he pulled it on, stifling a yawn as he did so. Then, he made his way back to the bed, and put his boots back on. He tied them up so that they were comfortably tight on his feet.  
  
He stood up again, and walked towards the study door, still wrestling with the buttons on his shirt as he went. _Must be a new shirt...damn buttons are all stiff._ He gave up, having managed only the bottom three, which had done the shirt up only to just above his navel. _It's not like this will shock Draco,_ he thought, pushing open the door into the study.  
  
At first, he wasn't able to see much, as the light in his workroom was very dim in comparison to the light in the rest of the house. He wondered why Draco had pulled the curtains, and entered the room carefully, mentally mapping it out so that he wouldn't trip over anything and make a fool of himself.  
  
However, only two steps in, his left leg collided with something very solid, _(it feels like the foot-rest,)_ and he toppled head first into the floor. "Eurgh..." he groaned, cursing the day that he ever allowed his wife to decorate this place. "Draco, what in God's name are you doing sitting here with the curtains drawn?" he asked indignantly, rolling over and beginning to stand up.  
  
A sudden onslaught of sunlight as the curtains were thrown open stopped him in his tracks, and he blinked like a newborn puppy at the gleaming sunlight. He noticed with some vague annoyance that his hair had once again come loose. "Draco, what do you think you're playing at?" Lucius asked, losing his cool, and then immediately bringing it back. "Would you please help me up?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know...I suppose so," Draco answered, and Lucius finally caught a glimpse of his son. He was sitting in Lucius' office chair, most of his frame obscured by the heavy desk. He stood up, and Lucius briefly wondered what had happened to the shirt Draco had been wearing... _Quidditch certainly has helped him grow this year,_ he noticed hazily. When Draco had fully emerged from behind the desk, however, Lucius' mind snapped into clear focus.  
  
_...Where are his clothes?_ He wondered, panicking slightly as the sight of his own _son's_ body aroused his...interest... "Draco, what do you think you're-?" he wasn't able to finish the question however, as his son reached out a hand, and placed one tapered finger on his lips. _...?_ Coherent thought evaded Lucius, and he swallowed hard.  
  
"Shush," Draco ordered, and Lucius fond himself complying with his son. His grey eyes dipped down to look at Lucius' open shirt, and Lucius followed the gaze. What he saw surprised him even further, because Draco had crouched down beside him, and was expertly working the buttons of his shirt open.  
  
"Draco!" Lucius protested, albeit weakly. Draco just shushed him again, and Lucius felt powerless to resist as Draco gave up on the final button, and ripped it open instead. He was equally as helpless when his son then removed the shirt altogether, revealing a chest and abdomen, which, whilst not being as defined as they once were, were still attractive in their own right.  
  
It was when Draco began wrestling with Lucius' belt that he realised what was happening. _Oh God. Oh God, no!_ He took hold of both his son's hands, and ignored the evident excitement he had bought forth in his son. "Stop it Draco," he commanded, managing to keep his voice level, even though his body was imploring him to allow this to continue. Draco's wide grey eyes blinked a couple of times, looking betrayed. Then, they narrowed, and Lucius was shocked to see a cruel twist arrive on his innocent boy's mouth. Lucius could see a piece of himself in there – the death eater Lucius whom smirked as he condemned people...  
  
"You don't want me to stop," he declared, and Lucius gasped as his son extracted one hand from his hold, and placed it upon the front of his trousers. He felt friction there, and his eyes rolled backwards a little as Draco moved his hand.  
  
"Draco – stop this, right now," Lucius said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the sensations that his hand was eliciting. He moaned softly, and could have slapped himself for it. Draco's smirk widened, and he then took both hands back to Lucius' belt. Lucius could literally feel his resolve melting away, and he watched in wonder as his son undid the expensive silver buckle.  
  
"Shoes – off," Draco commanded whilst he worked at the two buttons and zip that were the only barrier between the outside world and black boxers. Lucius kicked his shoes off, and then wondered when exactly his son had managed to gain this power over him... When a hand lightly brushed against his growing erection, however, he was able to remember quite clearly...  
  
"Get rid of those," Draco said, having undone the trousers. He then stood up, and wandered around to the office chair behind the desk. There, he sat down, and rested his chin on steepled fingers, surveying his father with a predatory look. Lucius forced his tormented body to stay still. _I'm not going to...he'll hate me after...just...pretend it's not happening...forget his...beautiful..._ Lucius silently cursed when he realised his wand was still on his bedside table, where he'd dropped it earlier. _Could have done...memory charm...forgotten the whole thing..._ An exasperated sigh from Draco bought him out of his mantra about how 'fathers should not feel like this about their sons'.  
  
The boy had again left the office chair, and has now standing astride Lucius. "Really, dad, do I have to do everything myself?" Draco sank down, so that he was now straddling the prone Lucius, his bare skin creating friction against the peaked fabric of his underwear. Lucius let out an unwarranted squeak, as his son tugged insistently at the fabric of both trousers and boxers. "Don't be difficult," he said, this time with a tender smile. Lucius still resisted, and gasped when his son reached one hand around him, to rest in the small of his back.  
  
Draco rose him up off of the floor, which allowed him to slip both garments easily down. Then, he shuffled backwards a little, and removed them altogether. Lucius closed his eyes, and his fists clenched at his sides. Draco crawled back up his body again, and his penis once more collided with Lucius'. He gasped again, and relinquished all the inhibitions he had lived with ever since he had noticed his son's attractiveness.  
  
The boy assaulted his mouth, still open from the gasp, and thrust an eager tongue inside. Lucius rose his hands gingerly to his son's head, and wrapped his fingers in the boy's hair. _Shouldn't...doing this...stop...now..._ His thoughts soon became disjointed, and he then ignored them altogether.  
  
Draco soon seemed to become bored with the kiss, and drew away. Lucius left his hands entwined in his soft hair, and looked up at the flushed cheeks, and bright smile on his face. The eerie resemblance his son had of himself twisted and danced in his mind... "Thank you," he whispered, before dropping his head down to test the sensitive skin of Lucius' neck. Lucius disentangled one hand from his son's hair, and curiously ran it down the supple length of his back. The shiver of pleasure this induced told him that this was a liked feeling, and he continued to trail his fingers across the soft skin there.  
  
Meanwhile, the boy had begun to trail kisses lower and lower. Across his collarbone, and then briefly returning to his neck to leave a mark that would probably remain for weeks. Then, back to the collarbone, and down the chest, until he reached a nipple. He ran a gentle, exploring tongue around it first, and when he received the reaction he wanted, bit upon it gently. Lucius was so far gone by this point that all he could do was moan... Draco smiled, and then continued his trek down the body he had wanted to explore for so long...  
  
Lucius curiously traced his fingers along Draco's back, wanting to return the pleasure his son was giving, but not quite sure how to... His hands did not stop at the end of his spine, and instead ventured further, to skin that had not been touched in such...an intimate...manner before. At least, by the sharp inhalation that Draco took, that was what Lucius surmised. He pursued his course, as did Draco.  
  
The younger man had finally reached his destination, and he surveyed his prize with wonder... He reached out a hand that had been playing with a strand of hair, and touched the quivering member. This bought about a reaction more violent than anything he had gained before. He found himself thrown about, so that he was now pinned down by his father, who was panting, and had sweat beading on his forehead. Draco wriggled slightly, not quite comfortable with his new position.  
  
Lucius was finally in control again, and he took the hand that Draco had so recently been investigating with. "Like this," he sighed euphorically, bringing his son's hand back to his erection. He ordered the taper fingers in a way that was comfortable, and then started the hand moving in a slow rhythm. When it seemed he had gotten the idea, Lucius decided to return the favour.  
  
The strokes became steadily faster, until Lucius could feel the pressure building up inside of him. It was so intense that it was almost painful, and he could feel the frustration of months without pleasure being swept away. He was so close...so close to the edge.  
  
And then...he fell from the cliff, and spiralled into bliss...

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat bolt upright, panting and roving his eyes around his room feverishly. He hyperventilated, and realised with disgust that he had just dreamed... _Oh God! Fucking pervert, that's your son!_ He told himself, realising also that at least one part of the dream had been...real. Gingerly, he got up from the bed, and went into the bathroom, grabbing a new pair of boxers on the way.  
  
He turned the shower to the coldest setting that it had, removed his clothes, and then climbed in. "Oh God...this is going to be a long summer..." he mumbled, turning his face up so that it was doused with icy water.

* * *

_I apologise for the crap ending. In fact, I apologise for the whole thing. They were dreadfully OOC, and my sex-scenes make playboy porn stories look like a piece of Tolkein literature in comparison. Feel free to either shoot me/ flame me/ have me sent to an insane asylum/ or all of the above.  
  
Damn those pretty Malfoy men...I blame this whole thing on them!  
  
Ah well, review even if you hated... Eep. It's been a while since I've written anything like this, so pointers will be appreciated greatly.  
  
Soda _


	2. Reflection

**Reflection**  
  
_Disclaimer: Same as last chapter  
  
Due to the horrible, awful, terrible, awful, ghastly, and did I mention awful, ending of the last chapter, I decided I might as well continue this. Also factoring in my continuing Malfoy-fic obsession of the week, and the fact that my other fics are being bitchy and refuse to be written, this seemed like a good thing to do. Besides [smirk] I quite enjoyed writing the last chapter, so I thought I'd do another one, even though people probably think I'm some sort of sick weirdo...  
  
More OOC joy – continuing over the summer (which is supposed to be between Draco's fifth and sixth year), actually from Lucius in shower. (Now that is a sight I'd like to see in the mornings!) Severus will also be making an appearance. Why, you ask? Urm...yeah, I actually haven't figured that out yet, but I will! Ahem...without further ado, I will cease my fangirlish ramblings and attempt to construe a half decent story. Yay me!_

* * *

* * *

The shower soothed Lucius' nerves somewhat, and when he left the chilly surge of water ten minutes later, he had almost managed to completely scour the dream from his mind. He realised, in hindsight, that his image of his son's body was actually just a medley of former...'lovers', he supposed you would call them...and probably reflected little upon Draco. _Yes, quidditch may well have built him up a little, and his growth spurt may well have placed him almost as tall as I...perfect height for kissing... No! Stop that!_ Lucius admonished himself harshly.  
  
He decided that the best way to take his mind off of things would probably be to do some work. So, wrapping a towel firmly around his waist, he left the bathroom to go in search of a new set of clothes... His others would remind him far too much of all this...unpleasantness...  
  
Keenly, he flung wide the doors of the wardrobe (that was not to his taste, but function had overruled fashion in this one area), and searched around for something that would give stark contrast to his former attire. The sad thing was...his life was one so full of suits and dress-robes...that finding anything not of the same ilk was proving difficult. _I wonder if Narcissa has wormed her way around to emptying and then 'borrowing', the chest of drawers from the living room...?_  
  
Lucius, feeling foolish that he had not noticed whether or not the heavy piece of mission furniture still resided in his lounge, poked his head through the bedroom door to search for it. With a slight triumphant smile, he saw that it was. Then, after a furtive look around to check that he was indeed alone (for the dream had shaken him up more than he would care to admit, even to himself), he strode purposefully to the chest of drawers. Once before them, he paused a second, to try and remember which drawers contained which items.  
  
Unable to do so, he started at the top drawer. Pulling it out, he found himself assaulted by family memories – some good, most not so good. There were the many bills for Narcissa's expensive clothes/ parties/ furniture/ friends, as well as receipts for the Nimbus2001s that Lucius had bequeathed on the Slytherin team. Next to these were official documents detailing the funds that Hogwarts needed, from when Lucius had still been a member of the governing council. _In some respects, I'm glad that it's over_, he mused, eyes moving over everything else.  
  
His heart missed a beat as his eyes were captured by a pair of grey ones. But...not the grey eyes that he knew so well – not the grey eyes he had seen narrow in anger, and brighten in reigned mirth. No... _It's him_, Lucius thought bitterly. _Why is this even here? I thought I told Narcissa to have the house-elves throw these old things away!_ He repressed a shudder at the family portrait before him. His father was an imposing figure...and, Lucius noticed with surprise (as he always did), just how little he looked like his own father.  
  
The man was of average height, with a very broad build – dark brown hair lay in luxurious ringlets over dress-robes of sombre black. He did not smile, and one hand languorously paused on Lucius' shoulder, before being grasped by the woman in the picture (Lucius' mother). She was the one from whom Lucius' had inherited his looks..._perhaps that was why father..._ Lucius shook his head, and studied his mother, remembering fondly that she, unlike Narcissa, had preferred the company of her family than the company of the socialites of high society. She smiled, and patted his younger self on the head, her own blonde hair swinging with the movement. The two adults then kissed, and Lucius shook his head in disbelief as his picture-self just pulled a face, and then stuck out his tongue at the outside world. _To think...was I really ever that young? That...happy?_  
  
He looked away as that hand once again grasped onto his shoulder. _That was a few months before he...before..._ A small sound came unbidden, and he bought a hand to his mouth to quell any further sound. He'd learnt not to cry...it was always worse when he cried... He closed the drawer, mentally shutting away memories of the past as he did so.  
  
He moved onto the next drawer, which he found was full of baby paraphernalia. _Does Narcissa ever throw anything away? Or do I just get all the rubbish she doesn't want?_ He wondered, still slightly peeved that that particular family portrait had not been...disposed of...as he had asked. A magical jack-in-the-box sprang open, a wriggling and seemingly live hand waggling its fingers in a gruesome way, before offering Lucius a bunch of beautiful lilies. He blinked, and accepted them, amused by the toy. _I remember when Draco first played with this...he was so afraid. I think he ran away crying, if I remember rightly..._  
  
Lucius lay the sweet-smelling lilies on top of the dresser, and briefly tried to remember what flowers Draco used to get... _I think they were daisies...I'm not sure..._ These safe memories were pleasing to Lucius, so he pored over the toys for a few minutes longer, coming up with Draco's first ever broom (which could be miniaturized for easy transport and storage) and a pack of self-shuffling cards, which Lucius had attempted to teach Draco how to play _cheat_ with. However, Draco had never really understood the game, as he always used magic in order to see everyone else's cards to find out if they were cheating.  
  
He smiled, and decided to keep the self-shuffling cards out. It wasn't like he had to do work today after all...he could just waste some time instead. The items he wanted taken from the drawer, he closed it, and moved onto the third one. Now, this one looked promising – he ransacked the interior, emerging from the pile of old garments with a pair of once black, now faded, jeans, and a casual Slytherin green shirt. _I wonder if these will still fit me?_ He thought, holding them out before him. _After all, I'm not as young...or thin...or even **fit** as I used to be..._  
  
_I suppose there's no harm in trying the blasted things on_ he decided, taking his new/old clothes back into his bedroom. Then, a few seconds later, he hurried back into the living room and retrieved the lilies and self-shuffling cards. The lilies he placed into an empty Clarice Cliff vase that stood on the windowsill, and the cards he tossed lazily onto his bed. The vase filled up with water after he pointed his wand in its direction.  
  
Those tasks done, he looked at the clothes he had thrown onto the bed, and wondered again if he dared even try them... His discarded dress trousers and white shirt on the floor spurred him on – he relieved himself of the luxuriously fluffy towel (which was, as with so many other things in the household, green), and pulled on a new pair of black boxers. This done, he felt free to stare at the clothes on his bed apprehensively...he literally couldn't remember the last time he had worn something so common as jeans. Yes, to be fair, they were incredibly expensive Levis, but they were still more common than any of his other fare.  
  
_And yet...they'll probably be more comfortable that what I usually wear,_ he thought. Throwing caution to the wind (which was, coincidentally, picking up at an alarming rate outside, not that Lucius could tell through the two foot thick walls of the ancient manor), he picked up the jeans and shirt, and meandered around his futon and chaise lounge in order to reach his long- unused dressing mirror. There, he held the jeans up against himself – they were still the right length of that he was certain, but whether they were still the right width was another matter entirely...  
  
He undid the slightly stiff button, and then slid the zip open. Then, first his left leg, and then his right leg, were enveloped by the worn denim. In a most unrefined manner, he then proceeded to jump/wriggle into the garment, pulling the denim upwards and thrusting his legs downwards in an attempt to get the jeans on. To his surprise, (and delight), he managed to pull them on with minimal effort. When it came to doing them up, however, he had two major problems. One was his increased girth (from too many early- lunches and the like with his associates and acquaintances). The other was the fact that the zip had now managed to get itself stuck at the bottom of its entire course.  
  
Breathing in slightly, Lucius was able to replicate the younger man who had worn these trousers. However, when he breathed out again, it was obvious that he had gained a few pounds. Not enough to make the trousers unbearable, but enough to make them rather...snug... Deciding he'd rather not risk life and possibly limb by wrestling with the infernal muggle zip, he wandered back to his bed, picked up his wand, and then went back over to the mirror. Using it as a guide, he aimed the wand in the general area of the zip, and tried to recall a spell that would be useful here.  
  
"Lucius, what _are_ you doing?" came a voice that was both amused and appalled. Lucius turned around, wand raised and ready to perform a curse, the other hand holding together the two sides of the broken zip. When he saw who it was, he relaxed (only slightly).  
  
"The...zip..." he offered, by way of an explanation, managing to sound incredibly dignified. _God, what must he have thought...especially from that angle...with my wand pointing at my crotch._ Lucius could feel himself flush, and tried to quell his embarrassment.  
  
An eyebrow crept diligently up the forehead of the other man in the room – tendrils of a wispy, smoke-like substance still hung in the air around him, showing that he had just apparated into Lucius' chambers. Then, he smirked at the predicament that Lucius was in.  
  
"I don't see what's so amusing!" Lucius exclaimed, very annoyed that his morning was probably about to be thoroughly disturbed. This, on top of the fact that a Mister Severus Snape, snivelling coward a year younger than himself, was now a fully-grown, assured man, who could probably see his underwear right now... _I swear, if this day gets any worse..._ Lucius wondered what on earth the black haired potions-master was even doing here, and voiced this query, still sounding irritated. "Pray tell, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Well..." Severus moved towards Lucius, who had returned his attention briefly to the trousers he was beginning to lose any hope of doing up. "I just...felt like...dropping by..." he drawled, the usual cold smirk replaced by a genuinely amused smile. Lucius blinked, and looked up, registering the double entendre of Severus' words. _...I'm not really in the mood..._ he groaned internally, even as he turned his face upwards towards the ridiculously tall potions-master. He dropped his hands from the trousers altogether, reasoning that _they'll probably go altogether soon anyway._  
  
Severus surveyed him like a slowly-bubbling brew that he had made a thousand times, but never seemed to tire of. Lucius tried not to look too jaded by this whole scenario, and was glad when Severus stopped casting adoring glances, and actually claimed his mouth. _Same old, same old...at least it'll take my mind off_... Lucius pushed Severus away, causing the sallow-skinned man to blink in astonishment. Then, Lucius dragged him back, brutalizing the power he knew he had over the other. _Brown eyes...not grey...brown..._  
  
Severus _moaned_ piteously, and Lucius couldn't help the smile that graced his busy lips. He knew for certain that he was the only person who had ever induced that sound from the potions-master. _Always so quiet, so demure...and yet...really a screamer._ The thoughts were not intentionally cruel, but his current situation caused him to feel bitter. He knew that he should try to enjoy this...it had been a long time after all...but his mind just kept going over...  
  
Thankfully, the other man bought him back to reality with a jolt – Severus had collapsed to his knees on the floor, and was working on the one button that Lucius had managed to do up. His dextrous fingers made short work of it, and then the denim was expertly pulled down. The Malfoy patriarch stayed still as a statue, for he knew if he moved, he would make an ungraceful meeting with the floor. As it was, he would have to stand in this poker state until the- _Could have warned...me...oh...my..._  
  
Lucius decided thinking wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be, and instead entangled a hand in the black hair of the other man. Contrary to popular belief, the strands were not at all greasy, but in fact a luxuriously soft sensation against the fingertips. Lucius other hand went to steadying himself further. This was a complete contrast to Severus' hands – one momentarily reached to the floor so that he could rearrange his legs more comfortably. However, after that, both hands circled around to the bare skin of Lucius' backside.  
  
It was always like this...Severus liked to believe he was in control. Severus was the one who always claimed afterwards that 'he was not gay. He was just experimenting'. _If that's the case, he's been **experimenting** on me for nigh on twenty yea- Oh God!_ Lucius closed his eyes in utter ecstasy, tipping his head back so that his pointed pale face looked to the ceiling. _So...long since...been touched like...this..._ His guilty pleasure lost all bearing as the climax of this wonderful play drew closer.  
  
_No matter what I say...he...he...knows... The best...fuck!_ Suddenly, his legs refused to give him the support that he needed in order to stand. Severus released his three point hold on Lucius, and caught him as he slumped down. His chest was heaving, and the potions-master smiled crookedly, tugging his lolling head towards him so that he could share Lucius' taste with the man himself.  
  
His prying and talented tongue managed to tease a last little shuddering moan from Lucius. Then, it seemed, Severus was pleased – when he managed to get Lucius the silent, Lucius the pro, to make any sort of noise...he knew he'd done well. Like a faithful dog to his shepherd was Severus to Lucius...and he always liked to please. And, generally, he always did...  
  
_Not the one I...want..._ Lucius managed to think through the foggy haze that had descended on his euphoric mind. But, at that very moment, he knew he didn't really care. Because he couldn't have the one he wanted – he would never allow himself the same...liberties...as his father had taken. _I swore I would not be like my father...and damn it, I won't be._ Deciding to reward Severus for his charming passions, Lucius pulled back from the kiss, and gave him the warm smile he knew the man needed.  
  
This was a rare occurrence, and he could see immediately the different emotions sparked in the other. Firstly, there was disbelief and annoyance, for Severus believed he was trying to trick him. Lucius placed an affectionate kiss upon closed lips. Then, the potions-master looked bewildered, which was an expression that didn't suit him. In order to rid him of it, Lucius entwined his arms around the younger's neck, and played distractedly with the fronds of hair there. Understanding, and a quickly hidden look of adoration then entered the normally stony gaze.  
  
_Very good, little serpent. At least one of us shall be happy._ Lucius knew he should feel guilty...knew that he should either care more, or end this. But...he couldn't bear the thought of losing Severus, _his_ Severus. His first _project_, and it had taken him a grand total of five months to lull the boy into the false belief that he was madly in love with him. Cruel, but terribly effective – especially when one believes it oneself at the time.  
  
_Alas, time and events have not been so kind to either of us... May as well make him believe...that, for this little time...love him... Just love him...he is easy to love. Not forbidden, no innocence lost... Love him._ But Lucius couldn't bring himself to agree with this blatantly sensible idea. He was lost, and angry at himself for getting like this.  
  
"Luc," he started at his old nickname.  
  
"Yes, Sev?" he replied, using the fond nickname of the genius-man to convey the deep affection that he truly held for him. _If only it could have extended to love...then this would all be so much...easier..._ He trailed one hand across the pale, sinewy neck of the other, until it rested upon his sallow cheek. It was easy to then trace the cheekbone down to his chin, and cup his thin cheek daintily. It was strange to see anyone with skin paler than himself, and he found himself highly fascinated. _I'm sure he used to be darker than this...  
_  
"Can I..." suddenly, the dark haired man faltered; unsure of whether or not to continue with what he was going to say.  
  
"What?" Lucius made to place an assuring kiss on his tightly drawn lips, but was evaded, so that his lips instead bumped against the cheek that was not cradled in his hand. "Sev?" he prompted.  
  
"Can I stay?" shocking as it was, considering recent events, he sounded..._shy_...as he asked. A slight sympathetic flutter occurred in Lucius' stomach. He could remember times when he had been the one asking to stay...been the unsure one. It was indeed a long time ago when he had first been in love, but he knew the fear that Severus had of rejection. Especially now...things were really starting to escalate now...  
  
Lucius didn't answer straight away, because he was dwelling on the past again. Severus took this as a polite refusal, and began to shuffle from the embrace that Lucius still held him in. The blond man tightened his hold, and glared warningly at Severus, shaking his head. "Don't go Sev...course you can stay," he mumbled, his thumb drawing small circles upon the startlingly smooth chin of his cheek.  
  
Severus' eyes again went through the three stages. He searched to find any insincerity, and, finding none, seemed to try and fathom why he was being allowed to stay. Unable to come to any conclusion, he just smiled, enraptured by the Malfoy man. Lucius was internally fighting a battle between the feeling of betraying a love (not that it was a love he could ever admit), feeling cruel for doing this to the other, and the need for physical pleasure. The last won...but only because he had been so starved of it recently...  
  
So, he slowly stood up, still slightly wobbly from Severus' opening statement, as it were. He kicked off the useless jeans, that had never gotten past the first stage of fastenings. Then, completely naked, he didn't even blush as he reached out and grabbed one of the fully clothed potion-master's hands. He wrapped his tapered and soft fingers over his calloused ones, and led him directly to the bed – it was a matter of seconds to sweep away the packet of cards and other things that shouldn't have been there.  
  
Then, in one deft movement, he tugged the black haired man forwards, and then threw him onto the bed. In a movement more lithe than someone of his age deserved to be, Severus managed to turn so that he was facing up at Lucius, smiling another of his crooked smiles. Lucius smiled as well – he was so accustomed to that small gap in between Severus' front teeth, and the way that the left side of his mouth drooped a little, that now it was always a nice reminder of the normal things in life. He also enjoyed the prickling sensation that one gets when being watched, as the other rove brown eyes all over his form.  
  
"Luc," Severus stretched out one arm, whilst lying back languidly against the sheets. Lucius accepted the hand, and allowed himself to be pulled down on top of the prone form of his former school-colleague. There was a pleading look in Severus' eyes now. "Luc, please..." he begged, so softly that Lucius only just caught it.  
  
"I know," he answered back, whispering into the translucent-skinned ear of his current lover. "I know, Sev...shh..." He accompanied Severus' shaking hands to undo the robes that he wore. Underneath those were his customary black clothes – black trousers and a black tee-shirt. During the slightly awkward process of removing it over his head, Lucius felt his usual pang of envy. _How in the hell is it that someone quite so scrawny can still retain an abdomen that you could probably break rocks on?_ Feeling rather old in comparison, he aspired to fully explore that region (as he had done countless times before) to try and find the secret behind this fabulous figure.  
  
As soon as Lucius got to work, Severus closed his eyes, and grabbed handfuls of the sheets in his fists. It was always a game of theirs to see quite who could last the longest without a scream. Lucius always won of course, though Severus tried every time. He just didn't take into account that, whilst his tongue was indeed skilled...Lucius was the one who had mentored him. And there were still a few tricks that the Malfoy had selfishly kept completely to himself. Just so that he could make sure he always had the upper hand...  
  
_Otherwise, wouldn't the competition get a little repetitive?  
_  
Lucius teased Severus mercilessly – he would allow his hands to brush lightly, ever so lightly – arousing Severus, but not giving him any release. He was waiting...the other would have to break sometime. Meanwhile, he plied most of his attention to that ridiculously wonderful torso. _This would have been good enough to grace Achilles or Odysseus...lucky...why can't I have...?_ He traced the defined pectoral muscles with a tongue that was pleased by the salty-sweet taste of the potions-master. He could even detect a little part of the potions Severus must have been brewing – a slightly bitter tang.  
  
He moved up again, the potions-master writing, trying to force him down, give him release. Lucius decided he didn't want to...not quite yet. Instead, he fiercely attacked his left nipple with teeth bared – nipping sharply, and then licking in apology, to soothe the shooting pleasure-pain. A short glance upwards at the other's face showed that he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He smirked...  
  
Then, he trailed a line of kisses from the small rise made by his Adam's apple (which was moving rapidly to suit his breathing), to his navel. There, he sucked on the small indentation, before blowing on the area that was now wet with saliva. The cool air caused an intake of breath from Severus, but, alas, no sound. _He's getting better...but...he won't be expecting..._ Lucius traced a hand softly, so that it tickled Severus' skin, down his side until it was at his jutting hip. Then, he pulled him up and over, so that he lay sideways on the bed.  
  
Swiftly, Lucius crawled away, off of the bed, and round the other side. Then, he pulled Severus back close against him (being careful to keep his bottom half well away.) So, with torsos crushed together, Severus was keen to move back, but Lucius held him in place with a sharp, "Tsk, stay Sev!" He complied, and then Lucius continued to work his charms to rouse a cry from the other.  
  
He placed one hand underneath Severus, so that it encircled his pelvis, and came back up just bare inches from his erection. There, he drew tantalizing patterns on the sensitive skin – the other hand he used to trace from bony shoulder to bony hip, pausing to play with a nipple along the way. His mouth went to Severus' neck, over a tiny old scar. He sucked on the flesh, and then bit down hard enough to draw blood, still working his tongue over the skin as well.  
  
At the same time as this, he took hold of Severus' penis with the hand that wasn't trapped beneath him, squeezing and pulling at the same time. He could hear the scream just bubbling up in the potions-master's throat, and smiled as he heard him name screamed in the agony of ecstasy. I win, he thought with a triumphant smile, removing his hands from Severus altogether. The other hadn't yet received the release he wanted, and Lucius allowed him the pleasurable privilege of turning a Malfoy, one of the most powerful people in Britain, over onto his stomach, and having his way with him.  
  
He did not cry out any names, though did allow himself a few choice moans as places he had nearly forgotten the existence of were pleasured. Severus, whilst ending his own agony, only prolonged Lucius, trying to win back a point. He only lightly touched Lucius' own erection, teasing him to the point that he considered allowing Severus his victory just so that he could have his liberation. But, Severus was by no means patient, and became quickly bored of his game, and gave the pleasure that was required.  
  
When it was over, Severus collapsed upon him, and rolled them over so that they were both on their sides. There, Severus put his head upon Lucius shoulder, and sighed contentedly, kissing him lightly upon the jaw, and then snuggling close to him. Had Lucius not been so tired or worn down by the dream that morning, and the late nights the week had given him, he might have pulled away. _It isn't fair to string him along like this...he might think I...love him...again..._ But, he was so tired by this point that all he could do was allowed the younger man the privilege of cradling him in his arms, like something precious not to be let go.

* * *

Draco was heinously pissed off. Almost as soon as he had reached his rooms in order to change, the weather had started to take a turn for the worse. When the clouds began to gather, he had not worried too much, and had tarried a long time in his room, polishing his Nimbus2001, and deciding whether or not to use the snitch that morning for practice. Eventually, he had decided against it, because, thanks to his dear father, he hadn't had enough sleep. As such, he knew he'd probably lose the blasted thing, and that would just be too embarrassing to bear.  
  
He had lazily strolled through the manor, and had popped into his father's chambers on the way to tell him where he was going – however, Lucius had been asleep, so Draco had crept into his study and left him a note. On the way out, he had tripped over the foot rest, and had angrily kicked it out of the way before leaving. Then, he had returned to main landing, and strolled down the stairs, broom over his shoulder, whistling a tune he'd been listening to on his Wizard's Wireless. It was the new Weird Sister's song, and he swore when he reached the third verse, as he couldn't remember the tune.  
  
Giving up, he tapped his foot impatiently as the house-elves heaved open the heavy front doors, and let in the glaring sunshine – rather, the dull- light as it came through the heavy clouds. As the clouds were still of the fluffy white variety, Draco was still hopeful that they would clear up. He carefully placed his broom on the floor, yelled the customary, "Up!" and then straddled the flying instrument.  
  
Then, will the usual thrill that always came with flying, he kicked hard against the highly polished and brightly shining marble floor, and launched out into the day. The house-elves had watched him go, and had then set about closing the door again in order to keep the heat out and the cool air in.  
  
The exhilaration of flight allowed Draco to temporarily forget the weather. He hadn't ridden his broom since returning home for the holidays, as his mother had dragged him off to Naples nearly every day in order to kit him out with new clothes for the coming year. _What I want to know is, what was wrong with my old clothes?_ He'd never understood his mother's obsession with fashion, and he doubted he ever would...  
  
Yet, when the first drops of rain began to fall, Draco was bought back to reality with an aggravating lurch. This was about three hours after he had escaped the confines of the manor, and he would be damned if he went back inside before he was done flying.  
  
Of course, flying in thunderstorms is never the brightest thing to do. Alas, you never really know it's a thunderstorm until you hear the thunder...and, as sound travels more slowly than light, that means the lightning will have hit before you ever hear it. This was how it was with Draco, who was flying stupidly and dangerously high – the tail of his broom was struck, and burst into violent flame.  
  
He looked around, and blanched at the sight. As well as he could manage considering the burning twigs really messed up his steering, he started to descend. He knew he was going too fast, but it was impossible to slow down now. He was plummeting straight towards the earth, and managed to nudge his steering enough so that he was headed towards the huge ornamental lake that stood in the informal gardens to the south of the manor.  
  
Clenching his fists around the smooth handle of the broom, he braced himself for impact, cursing the day that a thunderstorm deigned to turn up in the middle of summer.

* * *

Lucius' eyes flickered open, and he looked wildly about without actually moving his head. He registered the pointed chin still leaning on his shoulder, and remembered his potions-master. He wondered what had woken him, and carefully pulled himself from the slumbering man's embrace. A rumble of thunder echoed around the room, and a few seconds later a flash of lightning, followed by another rumble followed.  
  
Registering that he couldn't be bothered to even get dressed, because Severus would probably wish for more later, Lucius made his way into the study. He had a fine vintage port housed in a decanter in there, and he could do with a stiff drink.  
  
Because of the storm outside, the room was heavy with gloomy darkness. He pushed open the door, and then stepped inside. With a sickeningly familiar movement, his knees collided with the hard edge of the footrest, and he toppled onto the floor. "Fuck!" he yelled into the carpet – that was a lot more painful when not wearing clothes! Cringing slightly, for his head was now throbbing in a painful manner, he flinched at the nest thunder clap.  
  
Realising that it wasn't his son's voice, he relaxed, and sat up. He spied a piece of paper on his desk that had not been there before...his quill also lay on the desk rather than in the inkwell. Eyebrows knitted, he stood up, and moved to read the note.  
  
_Gone for ride on broom. Will be back for lunch at two.   
Draco._  
  
Immediately, Lucius' mind clicked. _His broom, the storm!_ He knew now why he had woken up. Not having enough time to bother getting dressed conventionally, he ran into the living room, waking Severus up as he raced past the bedroom, and grabbed his wand. Severus called after him blearily, but he was far too panicked to pay him any heed. He swished his wand in what he hoped was the right pattern, and mumbled a few choice words. Trousers appeared, but there was a pitiful lack of shirt. _No matter, I'll make do without._ He grabbed his own broom (actually a vintage Shooting Star model – more for show than for speed), and hurried down to the ground floor of the manor.  
  
The house-elves, on seeing their master, threw the doors open in but a few seconds, and, in a flash, Lucius had sped out into the pouring rain. Severus had followed him, having magicked himself back into his clothes. He stood on the doorstep, not daring to venture out into the rain that was pouring down from the sky with a vengeance. He followed the swiftly diminishing speck that was his love interest for the past twenty odd years, and wondered exactly what he was doing...

* * *

_Hah! I lied, it's turning into a full length fic now. Curses... Again, apologies for my inability to write sex scenes. This storyline is so clichéd that it amuses me no end. [Smirk].  
  
Review it...or...uh...I'll update even more slowly than I normally do.  
  
LOL, harsh threat, ni?  
  
Soda_


	3. Diffraction

**Diffraction  
**  
_Disclaimer: When I have succeeded in kidnapping JK Rowling, and exposing her to porn until she is saturated, then I could claim that I helped make these characters. Alas, I first have to actually get a car (so, that's about two years away...) So, as of now, they aren't mine, I am just playing with them.  
  
Notice that I'm running out of imaginative titles?  
  
In the last chapter, I managed to enter yet more gratuitous sex (yay me!) Now, however, we get to see shirtless Lucius flying a broomstick in a thunderstorm in order to save the bane and blessing of his existence...Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy line. Severus just gets to stand there in post- sex bliss and look pretty. Any objections? No? Excellent!_

* * *

* * *

Draco was floating – everything around him was a foggy haze, and he smiled, not knowing why he did so. The sky above was angry and grey, but somehow, it seemed that the sounds of the storm were being muffled. One of his arms was above him, hanging suspended so that it almost looked like it was unattached – like somebody else's pale limb. He sensed that he was cold, but the coldness had reached the point of numbness, and the numbness made him want to close his eyes.  
  
His head hurt...though he wasn't quite sure why. He was conscious of wetness enveloping him, and of the inky shadow of a broomstick hovering above him. Other than that, there was nothing else here to alarm him. The deathly quiet of his surroundings was quite pleasant, and he knew that he would easily be able to catch up on his sleep right here...wherever _here_ was.  
  
He inhaled deeply, expecting the heavy, pollen-laden air that he had become accustomed to as the summer standard to flood his lungs. However, something much less savoury and much denser filled his starved lungs, and he spluttered, attempting to spit the water back out again. However, he only succeeded in taking in more of the dreaded water, so that he suddenly felt heavy, and tired.  
  
The arm that had been suspended in lazy rest above him, now curled into a claw, trying to rake it's way to the surface. He had no idea what had happened to his other arm – it, like the rest of his body, was numb and tingling. He sent messages to his legs to kick towards the surface, using a flash of forked lightning in order to gauge his direction. With agonisingly slow movements, he managed to start his rise to the surface... Now, it was merely a matter of what occurred first – he would either break the surface, or the blackness trying to creep over his eyes would win, and he would sink once more.  
  
_I have to just...a bit further..._he thought, forcing himself awake as he slowly realised what had happened. The surface of the water was only a few inches above his now outstretched fingers, and he felt wonder race through him as they broke through into the sweet, sweet life-giving air above. The cold hit them, and feeling returned – with a last surge of strength, he bought his nose and mouth above the water as well.  
  
He gulped the air down, where it bubbled through the water he'd taken in, and then he began to cough – these, coupled with his already failing strength due to the lack of oxygen within his blood, weakened him further. He reached out and grabbed onto the handle of his precious broom – this, he clung to for dear life, noting that it had lost almost all of its tail of twigs. _Doesn't look like it'll fly again anytime soon,_ he thought, managing to somehow feel bitter about such a trivial thing. No matter that he had nearly drowned...his broom was ruined, and he petulantly clung onto its charred remains.  
  
He registered the fact that he was shivering...and also that the shore was a heathen distance away. _Don't think I can get that far..._ He attempted to propel himself through the water, but the weight of his clothes, the lack of oxygen to his muscles, and the intense cold that was now running through him, made this an impossibility. It was a miracle that he could still hold onto his broom!  
  
The Malfoy boy laid his head on his arms that were crossed over the stick, and slowly moved his dead-weight legs back and forth to help himself stay afloat. He could feel the sleep that wanted to take him, and vainly tried again to reach the shore. _Help..._ Draco briefly wondered if anyone would even miss him should he die... The rain was still pummelling down from the nearly black clouds above, and these bullet-like droplets succeeded in keeping him awake with their constant bombardment against his already soaked skin.  
  
Something large brushed against his leg, and he started – the broom rushed out of his grip as he let out a startled shriek, looking down to see the silhouette of one of the many coy-carp in the lake speeding away in terror. He splashed through the water, reaching for his makeshift raft that was swiftly floating away on the ripples he had made.  
  
His last ditch attempt was to throw himself towards it in a graceless dive – having missed, he fell face-down into the water, and because of the weight of his heavy, sodden, denim jeans, he began to sink again. Desperately, Draco flailed in the water, wondering why he had never thought learning to swim would be important.  
  
Draco's attempts all mounted to nothing, and only wasted what little energy he had regained from his time at the surface. Resignedly, he closed his eyes, and remained suspended in the murky waters of the ornamental lake of Malfoy manor. He had boated across it many times, and walked around it with the dog he had once had when he was young. Now, however, he took it to be his rather stylised tomb. _Don't even like...bloody rose bushes..._  
  
Something brushed by him again, but he ignored it for another carp. There was another brush, this time more certain, and he felt his shirt material being grabbed firmly. However, the water had already claimed him, and he fainted before he was hoisted out of the lake...

* * *

Lucius leant as far to the left as he dared, cursing the day that he had decided to go for style rather than speed. Yes, the Shooting Star had cost an arm and a leg (at least, judging by the prices in Knockturn alley for such appendages), but it couldn't go at anything above fifty miles per hour, and it was a bloody awful thing to turn corners in. He pledged to himself to get a Nimbus or Firebolt.  
  
He scoured the skies above for Draco, hoping to catch a glimpse of his son, just to assure himself that he was safe. He had a terrible dread in the pit of his stomach, which was accompanied by the usual nausea he always felt when flying. After his schooldays, he had pretty much given up the sport of quidditch, and finding himself in the air at any time was an odd sensation. No doubt he wasn't exactly portraying the dignified Malfoy line quite as his father would have wished – flying around shirtless in a thunderstorm wasn't exactly the norm by any standards – however, here he was...  
  
Having not yet spotted Draco, he wondered if perhaps all of this was for naught. _For all I know, he could be back inside, and I'm just making a prat of myself out here..._ But, something told him that that wasn't the case at all, so he carried on. He flew low to the ground, always staying below the tree line; this was the standard practice when it came to storms, as the lightning would always hit the highest point from the ground. So, as long as he stayed below the tree line, he would be safe.  
  
_I hope Draco remembered that._ He wondered if Draco might not have set down somewhere to shelter from the storm, and moved around to the informal gardens to the south of the manor. _Maybe he's in the gazebo...or under the rose-arches...  
_  
Lucius alighted on the shore of the ornamental lake, and dismounted from his broom, leaving it on the ground as he made his way towards the gazebo. The flashes of lightning picked out the gold leafing on the cornices that held up the stone roof, and also the marvellous limestone fountain that sent sparkling water gushing four feet into the air. Unable to see Draco within, he felt the silent feeling of alarm about the whole situation building up within him.  
  
He whirled around, prepared to make his way to the rose-arch walkway, when he thought he saw movement out in the lake. He dismissed it almost immediately as a fish jumping, but, when a flash of light yellow caught his attention, he focused his sights. Mixed emotions of delight and horror trembled precariously within him, and were luckily overruled by common sense, as he took his broom from the ground, and mounted it again.  
  
Still keeping his eyes focused upon the object (which he now knew to be his son) at the centre of the huge mass of water, he flew towards it, balancing as best he could, considering the winds that buffeted him. He saw Draco sink below the surface of the small waves being kicked up by the tempestuous weather, and turned his broom to an acute angle so that his legs trailed in the water.  
  
The sharp icy fingers of cold stabbed through the thin fabric of his trousers, and he felt a shiver run through him as he plunged both hands into the water. His fingers brushed past the collar of Draco's shirt once, and then managed to find the material again and grab hold. Then, wrapping his legs around the handle of the broom, he leant down so that his torso was flat against the wood, and heaved his son from the water. _Thank God he's still quite light,_ he thought, as he clumsily held Draco in one arm, and steered back towards shore with the other.  
  
His son's lips were worryingly pale, with a slight tinge of blue to them, and he didn't seem to be breathing. Lucius managed to find a fluttering pulse, but it wasn't all that strong...his wand was in his back pocket, and as soon as he set down, he unceremoniously dropped the younger Malfoy to the ground, and took the baton out in his right hand. _Considering current...situations...I think it'd be best this way._ He performed a complicated rite-pattern in the air, spoke a few choice words in Latin, and Draco managed to cough up about half of the lake, and then he took in great gasps of air.  
  
His eyes were wide, and he stared up at Lucius in obvious shock. "I...I nearly..." he started, but broke off, sobbing, and brought up his hands to try and hide the fact. Lucius was shivering almost as much as Draco was, and he stooped down to comfort his shuddering son. To his astonishment, the boy flung his arms around his neck, and proceeded to bear hug him, all the while weeping, "I could have died! Could have...died..."  
  
"Shh," Lucius said softly, patting him awkwardly on the back, trying to remind himself to stay in control. "It's all right, shh." _What in the bloody hell are you supposed to say in situations like this? Fucking hell..._ He tried to get Draco to release his deathly hold, but it didn't seem as though that was a likely course of action. He managed to get one arm free, with which he called his broom back into service. Then, he picked his son up in a fireman's lift, sat sideways on the broom, and made his way back to the great entrance to the manor.  
  
"Dad..." Draco snivelled pitifully, clinging onto Lucius so hard that it was painful. Lucius felt shock run through him, as that one word sparked memories of the dream from that morning... The dream that had haunted him now for months... He felt disgusted with himself as he looked down at his helpless and shivering son, and could only see the attributes that made him attractive...

* * *

Severus had waited at the open front doors for five minutes, before the biting cold wind and driving rain had forced him to seek refuge further into the hall. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, and every so often would rub his arms to try and warm himself up a little. _What **is** Lucius doing?_ He wondered, blowing warm air onto his hands, and then rubbing them together briskly. He hoped that it wasn't something he'd done.  
  
_Maybe asking to stay was a little much for him._ He smirked ruefully at the very idea – _nothing_ had ever been too much for Lucius Malfoy. Even Severus had come to terms with the fact that Lucius had owned him ever since that first, fumbling time of his... It seemed so long ago now – a completely different life and a completely different person to the one that he was now.  
  
Sighing, he again cast his eyes to the great wooden doors that framed the exit into the abhorrent weather conditions beyond. The house-elves, spooked by the thunder and their master's behaviour, did not even seem to attempt to hide themselves from his eyes anymore, and he took to studying them for lack of anything else to do. Most of them were clad in ensembles consisting of towels and pillowcases, though one seemed to be wearing something that could have been curtains at one point.  
  
The elves didn't keep his attention for long, and he rove his eyes over the rest of the entrance hall. It was, as ever, exceedingly pretentious, and not at all to Lucius' taste. _At least, if his dorm room at school was anything to go by..._ Severus thought, with a fond smile that he would never have allowed himself were he within the halls of Hogwarts. The entrance hall to Malfoy manor was a statement of wealth so overt, that even his students, most of whom were cretins, would have been able to ascertain the magnitude of the Malfoy fortune.  
  
The floors were of marble, highly polished (naturally), and in some places covered with expensive rugs of fur. Next to the great doors were multiple hat-stands, umbrella-stands and coat-stands. Most of these were made up of expensive materials, including ivory, mahogany, something that looked as though it could be gold, and Severus' personal favourite (that Lucius had only bought because Narcissa loathed it), an elephant's foot side-table, on which was a vase that the potions-master guessed to be Ming dynasty, perhaps even earlier.  
  
And, considering that he had only studied about ten square feet of the thousand square foot that comprised the entrance hall, that was an awful lot of expensive furniture and ornaments. He especially liked the paintings that were all around the walls – originals from Rembrandt and Constable, as well pieces by famous wizard artists, including a moving tapestry by the great Merlin himself, showing the life of King Arthur. Severus watched this, enjoying as he always did the scene of the lady of the lake, awed by the shining intricacies of the designs upon the hilt, picked out perfectly in gold and silver threads.  
  
The silver triggered his memory of his own school days, and he remembered the stark difference between this place, and Lucius' room. Lucius' father had helped the school's funding immensely, and as such, had been allowed to ask for whatever he wanted for his dear son. And, in sixth year, that happened to be that Lucius be given his own bedroom and study, in order to 'further his education and allow him more independence from other students'. At least, that was the story that the man had given to Dumbledore...Severus hadn't known at the time what it was truly for...but Lucius had at times allowed Severus insight into his life. So, Severus knew...knew Lucius' problems.  
  
However, setting those dark things aside, Lucius' rooms began as the most plush and richly decorated in the whole of Slytherin house, if not the whole of Hogwarts. Severus remembered well his bitter envy of his friend- come-lover when he first saw them. However, as the year progressed, Lucius began to give away items of furniture, and swathes of cloth and bedding, to other people in the house. He had claimed stoutly that he 'had no need of them'. His real reasons were much darker – a shiver ran through the potions- master as he contemplated the hurt Lucius had suffered...  
  
_So many reasons that people turn to the Dark Lord... My own seem paltry when compared to his..._ He shook his head, realising that he had been staring at a current Malfoy family portrait, and that Lucius was smiling benevolently down at him, high collared robes making him look stiff and formal. _He's never suited formal robes..._  
  
He was surprised when the painted Lucius was suddenly replaced by the real thing, crashing into the entrance hall and dropping his broom with a resounding clatter to the marble floor. He left large puddles of water behind him as he strode inside, and harshly ordered the house-elves to close the doors. Then, he called for another legion of them, and sent them off to prepare various rooms and foods, and such-like.  
  
Severus blinked as he registered that not only was Lucius there, but so was Draco. The boy had been clutched in the older Malfoy's arms, but was now shakily standing, leaning heavily upon his father. He let out a pitiful run of sneezes, and then stumbled as Lucius tried to lead him towards the stairs. Lucius caught him and righted him so that he stood on his own two feet once more.  
  
However, it was quite apparent that the boy would be going nowhere in his current state. Severus found himself surprised (and, for reasons he couldn't fathom, aroused), when Lucius hooked one arm around Draco's shoulders, and the other underneath the crook of his knees, and lifted him up. _You'd never think he could lift anything up with those scrawny arms,_ he thought, hurrying over to the two soaked Malfoys.  
  
When he was still quite a distance away, Lucius raised his eyes, and caught his. His eyebrows were high upon his forehead, and his mouth was in a tight frown, as he clutched the teenager in arms that were obviously straining to take the weight. Severus had been about to offer assistance to carry the boy, but, judging from the look on his face, it would be best not to. His lover looked most devastated by the state of his son, and he approached more slowly.  
  
"Luc?" he ventured, trying to regain his attention, as he had started to climb up the stairs. The blond-haired man stopped, and tilted his head to the side to show that he was listening. "Do you...do you need any help?" he stammered, trailing off towards the end.  
  
"I..." Luc started, and then he cut himself off. "Sev...I...thank you. But, no...we'll be quite all right." Then, finally, he coldly dismissed Severus, and the potions-master felt the familiar sickness run through him as he was rejected once again. "I think it would be best if you left – I need to concentrate upon my son." Without so much as a goodbye, Lucius carried on up the sweeping staircase.  
  
Severus watched him go, and bitterly repented the day that he had fallen in love with the Malfoy man.

* * *

Lucius kicked the door to Draco's chambers open, startling the house-elves already within, clutching bowels of hot water, dry clothes, tea, toast, new blankets, and a variety of potions ingredients. They had been chattering quietly amongst themselves whilst awaiting his arrival, but, now that he was there, they were respectfully silent. They parted like the red sea as he made a bee-line for Draco's four-poster canopy-bed.  
  
There, he dropped his son, still weak, but still, thankfully, conscious, onto the perfectly turned back sheets of the bed. Whilst bending over his prone form, he, on a whim, placed a kiss on his forehead, which, now out of the cold of the rain, actually felt quite warm. _Damn it man, why did you go and do that?_ He reprimanded himself, quickly retreating from the bed-side, and signalling for the house-elves to move forwards.  
  
He was torn between the insistent want to stay here, and assure that Draco was going to be all right, and the sensible need to leave in order to retain his sanity, which had been dwindling since the beginning of the holidays. He stepped back a few more paces, so that he was standing in the doorway of Draco's bedroom, and stopped. He leant against the door-frame, and watched the house-elves proficiently remove Draco's sodden clothes (when it came to the underwear, Lucius averted his eyes), and then replace them with the dry ones they had bought.  
  
Then, they took his feet (which had been left bare), and wrapped towels that had been dipped in the hot water around them. They did the same to his hands; this would allow his circulation to start up again, and would bring the feeling back into the limbs. Then, two of them were able to lift Draco's torso up, and another one helped to pull him back so that he was leaning against his many cushions. When they were sure he was comfortable, the house-elves removed the hot-towels, dried his feet and hands, and then lay a heavy blanket upon him.  
  
Lucius was astounded by all this perfectly co-ordinated teamwork. During this whole commotion, the elves had only muttered a couple of dozen words to one another, and yet had accomplished in ten minutes what would take many human nurses half an hour.  
  
With Draco now safely entombed in layers of warm clothes and heavy blankets, the house-elves paused their work, and there was a hurried whispered conversation between the two senior elves. Then, a small and quivering female was pushed forwards, towards Lucius, who was no longer paying any heed to them, staring into the middle-distance and wishing himself somewhere else. The female toyed with the fraying hem of her toga (which was constructed out of two tea-towels), and coughed politely.  
  
Lucius looked at her with sharp eyes, the blue orbs wide in surprise. They quickly narrowed however, as he remembered his own place in the household, and attempted to retake his authority. "Sir, begging your pardon sir, but, we thought that, perhaps...seeing as the young master is awake...and seems not to be too ill...whether you would care to...perhaps...if it isn't too much bother that is...well, what I mean to say is that maybe...if you want to..."  
  
"For the love of God, elf, just get on with it," Lucius demanded, massaging his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, and had the woeful knowledge that his little escapade would probably have given him a cold.  
  
"Sorry sir. What I mean to say is, perhaps you sir, would care to tend your son?"  
  
"What?" Lucius asked flatly. The female elf flinched, but stood her ground. It seemed the elves had been prepared for this reaction, and they put the trays carrying hot buttered toast and a tea-pot of steaming herbal tea that Draco liked, on the side table next to the bed. The senior male of the team took up the teapot, and began to pour out the brown/green liquid into a china cup.  
  
"Oh, not that we mean to be impertinent sir – of course, you will need to get back to your important work – we-"  
  
To his own surprise, Lucius found his vocal chords making sound without his consent. "No offence was taken. It's a valid suggestion – please leave the room." He blinked a few times, registering what he'd just said, and, by the time he'd figured out a way to undo the damage he was about to do to himself, the elves had all obediently left the room. Leaving him alone with a son who was barely conscious, and a plate of food to feed him with.  
  
The scent of the herbal tea reached Lucius' nose, and he wrinkled it in disgust. He had never understood the pull of herbal tea...sadly, that was another thing that Narcissa had introduced their son to, and Lucius had not been able to convince him that Earl Grey was the only proper tea to drink.  
  
Cautiously, so as not to disturb or alarm his son with sudden movements, he made his way over to the bed. There, he reached out and took the chair that rested next to the side-table, and dragged it to sit next to the four- poster. Draco's eyes were almost completely shut, and his face was turned away from Lucius. His hair was still plastered to his skull, a few shades darker than normal, and Lucius reached out a hand to brush the strands from his forehead. Flashes of times in his son's childhood when he had done this came to him, and he dropped his hand as though it had been burned.  
  
Draco's eyes were now completely closed, but his breathing still credited the fact that he was, indeed, awake. Lucius picked up the foul-smelling tea that his son adored, and forcing himself into the role of nurse, rather than the usual uncaring father he'd led his son to believe he was, he bought it to Draco's lips. He placed one hand behind his son's head, in order to lift it up so that he would be able to drink. Then, he tipped the cup gently, so that the hot liquid pressed against the closed lips – Draco opened his mouth obligingly, and some of the tea entered.  
  
Lucius quickly righted the cup again, not wanting to try to give his son too much to drink at once. Draco swallowed, and then one hand travelled tremblingly up from where it had lain on the coverlet, in order to take a weak hold on the cup. His eyes still closed, he placed his hand over his father's, and tipped the cup up again so that he could gain a little more of the refreshing hot beverage.  
  
He spluttered slightly, having overestimated his mouthful, and swallowed it quickly, which left a burning sensation in his throat. He briefly wondered who was actually sitting next to him, and opened his eyes. Lucius tensed when he say the grey spheres blinking bemusedly at him, and could do nothing more than offer a stretched smile. "Da-father?" Draco corrected himself, managing to regain a hold over himself. He could remember everything that had happened, and felt the intense embarrassment that only a teenager can, when he realised he'd made a complete idiot of himself in front of his father.  
  
"Yes Draco?" Lucius asked, taking the cup away and carefully setting it on the tray on the side. When he turned around, he thought he saw his son's eyes flicker down to his chest (_Oh God, I still don't have a shirt..._) and then back up to meet his eyes. He just put this down to a trick of his mind, _talk about your wishful thinking_, and ignored it.  
  
"I...uh..." he tripped over his words, and ended up saying something completely different to the polite gratitude he had wished to express. "Where's your shirt gone?"

* * *

Draco winced as the words left his mouth, and inhaled so sharply that his breath caught on the few bubbles of water still in his system, and he began to cough. His father looked startled by the sudden eruption of noise, and he felt himself reaching out for him before he quite knew what he was doing. He grabbed onto the arms that had been steadying him, and held on as the continued coughing wracked his body. He felt the older Malfoy tug him closer, and pat him on the back in order to assist the subsidence of the outburst.  
  
He managed to crack open his eyes again, from which tears were streaming. He took a few tentative small breaths, before daring to breath normally again. He didn't let go of his father's arms however, and was thus staring at Lucius' prominent collar-bone. Because of Lucius' tensed arms, it was even more noticeable than usual, and Draco focused on that as he steadied himself. He realised that his question hadn't been answered, and supposed it was because of the incredible stupidity of the question in the first place.  
  
_...Why is it that this reminds me of something?_ Draco wondered, remaining as still as a statue as he scrutinized his view of his father's chest. This was a sight that he hadn't seen for years...probably not since he'd left for Hogwarts. And, usually, this was only a sight reserved for the few holidays spent abroad that his father came along on. For some reason, it was a comforting sight – and, he noticed, in a hazy sort of wonder, that his father – his father, whom he had always thought of as 'old' (because, well, all children do believe their parents to be products of the stone age), was in fact quite young in the scheme of things. And, he was still sporting a rather muscular figure as well.  
  
It clicked in Draco's mind quite suddenly, and he felt himself blush. Only a few nights ago, he'd awakened from a most curious dream – almost a nightmare, but not quite. In it, he had been asleep, and his father had walked in (much like that morning, only the time in the dream had been the middle of the night.) Lucius had lured him awake by calling his name softly – he had looked up to see his father clad only in a towel...then...after that...it had gotten a little...strange...  
  
Needless to say, he had called in the house-elves to change his sheets in the morning... And he had not slept for the rest of the night, trying to contemplate what his subconscious mind might be trying to tell him. If muggle television shows had told him anything, it was that dreams were never to be taken at face value. _Though...I don't know...maybe...oh...God, just stop staring!_ He wrenched his eyes away from the bizarrely alluring collar- bone, to catch his father's eyes.  
  
Lucius looked stern, which didn't make much change from normal, and he calmly removed Draco's hands from his arms. "I trust you'll be all right?" he asked, though the brusque tone made it sound more like an assumption than a question.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be fine, I guess," Draco answered, snuggling back against the many pillows and cushions. Lucius nodded just once, and then stood up from the chair – only now did Draco notice that he was still completely soaking, and had in fact left a trail of water-droplets on the wooden cross-sash of the chair from his hair, which was loose. A few tendrils had turned into spiralling curls that framed a pointed and weary face.  
  
"Very good. Sleep well. I'll explain to your mother that you will not be joining us for dinner." Draco was startled by the change. He had almost begun to think that his father really gave a damn about him... But, alas, here was the usual cold, self-important bastard he'd come to know and tolerate. Recklessly, he reached out a hand, and latched onto his father's wrist. He turned his head to the side, so that it was in complete profile, proud and straight Roman nose wrinkled slightly in annoyance. "What do you think you're doing?" Lucius asked, and Draco heard a small catch in his voice, which confused him a little. However, rage overpowered confusement, and he tugged insistently on the wrist he held.  
  
"Why do you have to leave? You always just bugger off whenever anything happens – just so long as I'm alive to carry on your bloody name, you don't seem to give a damn!" he hissed; he'd never been able to master the technique of angered shouting. "Can't you just once, just stay? For fuck sake, even just pretend that you could give a damn?" He could feel tears welling in his eyes, the sum total of nearly sixteen years of being preened to be a death eater, of neglected by both parents, and of today's accident adding to the torrent.  
  
Lucius looked appalled. Draco expected him to shout, and was worried that he may even have bought his father to physical violence. When he wrenched his wrist out of Draco's hand, Draco flinched, closing his eyes against a blow.  
  
There was a resounding crash, and Draco opened his eyes to see that Lucius had left the room, slamming the doors behind him. The mirror was still shaking, and his paintings rattled against the wall. Feeling drained, Draco dropped back onto his pillows, and pulled the blankets right up to his chin, shivering slightly, though whether it was from his cold, or his fear, not even he was sure. _I shouldn't have done that...now I've made him angry. I'm such a fucking idiot!_ He extricated his arms from beneath the blanket, and then cradled his aching head in his hands, wondering whether his sanity was draining away from him.

* * *

* * *

_Oh, look, no sex! [Can imagine half the readers sighing with relief, the other half baying for the sex to be bought back.] Sorry...it just didn't seem appropriate. If it's any consolation, the next chapter will be extremely dark, and in it I will be using my masochistic side to write non-con and other nasties. This chapter was just a pretty little link, with ambiguous and confusing thoughts entering Draco's consciousness. (And I also wanted to show Severus being angsty and post-sexish.)  
  
I know I had fun. I barely care if anyone else likes it. I'm enjoying my sorry little slashing self far too much, considering the subject content of this!  
  
Ah well, cookies for all, for reading my third person. I don't usually write third person. Actually, this whole slash fic scene is pretty new to me (at least, serious Harry Potter slash fiction is anyway...), as is third person (since I usually write in first). So, you are all in fact just part of one big experiment! Hurrah for you lot!  
  
Now to go and write something on my other fics...before I am garrotted for not updating them.  
  
Soda x  
  
Review me. The review-monster is hungry, and it may eat me if I cannot provide it with more reviews soon. _

_Oh, and this chapter goes out to Dragon-Spit, SNÝVELLY, Intrigued, CrimsonTearsOfPain, Gabo0 and PhantomWitch666. Thanks for the reviews. I hope this chapter was to your satisfaction (even without the sex)._


	4. Deflection

**Deflection  
**  
_Disclaimer: I still haven't managed to find an aging potion with which to bring myself up to seventeen and then take my driver's test. Thus, I haven't yet kidnapped JK Rowling. And, as such, they still aren't mine. Blast...  
  
Notice that my chapter titles are now forming a little rhyme? And I'll point out that that wasn't completely intentional either...heh...weird me. Also, I'll point out that the feed-back I've received on this has been...well...astounding! Kay Warren – thank you for assuring me that my writing wasn't as bad as I feared [blushes]. (I'm just generally afraid of messing up, since I'm rather on the young side, inexperienced etc.)  
  
Now, onto the next chapter. Lucius has fled his son's chambers, terrified by his outburst. Draco is sniffling away in bed, stemming a cold that's bound to appear. Lucius is now running through the corridors...shirtless (does anyone else notice that I enjoy Lucius when he has less than the standard amount of clothes on?) What will occur? Uh...well, if you read the notes at the end of the last chapter, I think you'll have a pretty big clue. **Warning** – substance abuse. No, I **don't** condone it. However, my muses decided it would be fun to make me write it._

* * *

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was not one to usually run. Running was not a dignified past time. Also, wandering around less than fully clothed wasn't very dignified either. As such, running around without a shirt (albeit within his own manor) was a very embarrassing and trying experience. And not at all dignified.  
  
Where Draco had clasped onto his wrist felt as though it was burning – every so often, the panic-ridden blue irises would take a glance at the skin there, so sure that it would be bubbling and burning. Yet, every time, it looked just as it always did – thin, pale, and leading towards spidery- fingered hands. He shuddered at the sight of them – so much like his mother's – his dear, dear mother... So much like his Draco's...  
  
He clenched both his fists, and used them as battering rams to barge open the doors to his own chambers. He decided to go into the study, just to see whether Severus might be in there (after checking and ascertaining that he wasn't in the bedroom). _Anything to take my mind off..._ Yet again, he neglected to check the whereabouts of the foot-stool, and tumbled over it in his blind rush to enter the study.  
  
Lying full length on the floor, he banged his fists futilely against the thick carpet, wishing that this madness wasn't happening. For the first time in years, he could feel tears pushing at the back of his eyes, begging to be released. And, for the first time in years, he had to swallow his pride as he allowed them their freedom. _Stupid, useless... Get a hold on yourself...  
_  
Suddenly, a darker voice that he had not heard before entered his mind, as silver-tongued and serpent like as the Dark Lord himself. _**Why not take what you want? Would that be so wrong... He is your son after all...he's your property. Just take what you want...you have the power to do it...  
**_  
_I...  
_  
**_Go ahead. It's only a simple curse away. Say it with me – _Imperio_ – try it...you'll like it.  
_**  
_But I...  
_  
**_You what? Don't want to be like your father? Oh, and what exactly have you done that was so different to your father's doings? You're the same silly little rich-boy you've always been – stop acting so petulantly and take charge of something for once in your miserable little life-  
_**  
_Shut up! I won't...I can't...I **mustn't**._ He clenched his eyes tightly shut, forcing his spiralling train of thought to a grinding halt. It was just beginning to get too much – it was throwing up so many memories that he would rather not think of...  
  
Wearily, he picked himself off of the floor, noting that he had managed to acquire some bruises from the first time he'd collapsed over the foot- stool...which meant he'd have a good few more in a couple of hours. He also noted that he was still completely soaked, and was probably ruining the carpet by dripping so much rainwater all over it. He couldn't, however, even bring himself to worry about it.  
  
Shakily, he made his way to his desk, picking up the decanter of vintage port he had extracted from his glass cabinet earlier, and decided that he may as well entertain himself, now that Severus was no longer in the manor. Kicking off his shoes (casual soft leather loafers), he sank down into his Georgian-era office chair – his wet skin clung to the padded leather back, and he had to peel himself slowly away from it in order to reach for one of the two glasses he had laid out.  
  
Then, he sank back against the cool material, his hair an uncomfortable wet mass that tickled his shoulder blades, and fell in front of his pale face when he looked down to wrestle with the lid of the fine crystal carafe. With movements that were not quite as controlled and precise as he would normally prefer, he managed to transfer some of the fiery amber liquid into the tiny glass that lay on the desktop.  
  
With no hesitation, he then picked the glass up, and in one, smooth motion, threw it and his head back in perfect synchronisation. The velocity at which the glass moved meant that the liquid was forced at a high speed into his mouth, and then down his throat with a grimacing swallow. _A good year..._ He thought, as the burning sensation caused by the liquor spread through his otherwise frozen body.  
  
These actions were continued twice more, leaving the decanter little more than half full. Finding this method of relaxation wholly too polite for the situation, Lucius discarded the glass altogether. Indeed, in his rage at the futile nature of his cause for inebriation, he managed to sweep his arm in such a way that the glass transposed itself into tiny glittering shards on the carpet. Outside, a fork of lightning connected with one of the great old oaks of the estate, and lit up the dangerous minefield of glass shards, peeking out from amongst the temptingly soft fronds of pure wool.  
  
With only the drink left to worry about, the Malfoy patriarch was able to force his chair to tip backwards, so that it leant on only two legs against the wall. This allowed him a much more leisurely position from which to drink. So, without further ado, he rose the fine piece of Russian Imperialistic crystal to his lips, and sipped the fine vintage brew. His pale throat moved painfully slowly, Adam's apple causing a slight, tantalizing rise upon the sinewy curve as he tipped his head backwards to drain the last of his concoction.  
  
All of this had taken him perhaps ten minutes, and it was only when he tipped his chair back onto it's standard four legs, that he felt the true effects of such punishment to his body. Everything – absolutely _everything_ – felt numb. In some ways, this was perfect...in others, it was not. The desk now seemed too far away for him to even consider an attempt to place the fine container on it. He clasped it in the hand that led to the wrist that Draco had grasped not so long ago. His other hand he took to his mouth, where a small droplet of port had managed to escape. He took the finger on which his wedding ring would normally lie (which he had removed that morning so that Narcissa could take it to be cleaned and polished for the next year), and wiped the droplet away.  
  
Then, seeing as the port was so fine and expensive, he decided that it would not do to waste it. So, he transferred the droplet, via his finger, back to his mouth, licking the last of the burning drink away. His throat felt raw, his chest was still chilled, his hair clung to his back, the skin of which was painfully stuck to the leather of the chair. His hands were uncoordinated, and the only thing that reminded him that he had legs, was when he placed one foot down upon the floor, and managed to tread upon the scattered glass shards there.  
  
"Fuck!" he said, slurring the curse ever so slightly as he abruptly lifted his foot from the floor to examine it. Leaning forwards, he forgot about the vessel that had contained his pleasure altogether, allowing it too to drop to the floor. Luckily, Russian products seem to be more sturdy than their British counterparts, and it did not break, instead rolling over a couple of times before coming to rest with a slight clunk against the foot- stool. His foot, illuminated by the half-light being let in by the blinds over the windows, had managed to connect with more than one shard it seemed.  
  
Little rivulets of blood were welling up all over the sole of his foot, which was dusted with a light covering of the shattered glass. He was fascinated to find that it didn't hurt quite as much as it should have done. _Evidently, that port was even more excellent than I thought..._ His thoughts were still surprisingly coherent, considering how much of the _twenty percent alcohol_ beverage he had just imbibed. He rubbed the flat of his shaking palm along the surface, dusting off the sparkling mess.  
  
In doing so, he also succeeded in cutting his palm. Disheartened by this turn of events, he pulled his damaged foot so that his legs were crossed, the sole of the foot still facing upwards. Reaching into one of his less important (and thus, unlocked) drawers, he removed a flask of 'rubbing alcohol'. It was evident that this had seen much use, as there was only about a quarter of the colourless liquid left. He used his teeth and the un- damaged hand to open it, spitting the metal cap out onto the floor.  
  
Then, after a large gulp (mainly for courage, but also to further the numbness in his limbs), he tipped the remaining eighth of the bottle over his foot and hand. With a sharp hiss, he watched all the blood run away, turning the liquid a rose pink. But, in a few seconds, all the blood had just started to come forth again, and he leant heavily back in his chair, trying to decide if it was even worth calling his staff. Of course, they wouldn't ask questions...but there would be rumours and discussions to try and figure out just what was wrong with the 'master.' It would be best to leave it...  
  
Further rummaging through his drawers turned up something that he'd almost forgotten he had. With a sense of demonic glee, he extracted a shining needle, still in it's sterilised container, and a small bottle of vibrant green liquid, whose foil seal, though dented, was not actually broken. The label on the front, which was faded (and also seemed to have what appeared to be a blood stain on it), merely read 'Enjoy!' The rest of the writing had been rubbed off, though the shadow of a warning symbol could still be seen.  
  
_How long has it been since I...?_ He looked down at his left arm, eyes taking a short while to focus on the crook of his arm – folded, he couldn't see the entire extent of the skin, so he stretched his arm out straight. In his peripheral vision, he saw the red skull and snake of the Dark Lord, waiting to burn deepest black when he was next called... He ignored it completely, and focused upon the crook of his elbow. There, he could just make out a cluster of tiny pock-marks, all above the prominent blue vein that could be seen even now, pulsing slightly with the accelerated heartbeat that only liquor provides. Anyone who didn't know...his past actions, shall we say...wouldn't have recognised the telltale signs of multiple injections.  
  
However, he had been playing this game ever since the sixth year, and it hadn't killed him yet. _Though I've never taken it with this much alcohol before...  
_  
**_Not that it matters, even if you do die. You're too cowardly to even take what you want, so what would it matter anyway-?  
_**  
_Shut up._ The voice did as it was told, seemingly weakened by his less than sober state. With fingers that were now disturbingly sure, he ripped open the sterile sealing on the needle, and plunged it through the foil lid of the tiny bottle of lime-green liquid. Slowly, he drew up the plunger, taking in all five millilitres of his favourite vice. Letting the bottle settle on the seat underneath his folded legs, he raised the needle up to the light, and checked the plastic chamber below for air bubbles.  
  
He tapped the side of the tube twice to dislodge the bubbles he couldn't see, but knew were there, and then leant forward to put it on the desk. Again reaching into the same drawer that he had taken his drug from, he took out a contraption that looked very similar to those used by muggle doctors to check blood pressure. This, Lucius put around his arm, having it rest just above the injection site. Then, he pumped a total of twelve times, until the band was tight around his arm.  
  
Next, he grabbed onto the edge of the desk, and tensed his arm, popping the pulsing vein into prominent view. It was then a quite simple matter to take the full needle, and using the old scars as a guide, to take the metal point right into his waiting vein. The pain was minimal, both because of the drink, and because of his practiced hand, which meant he was used to it, and knew which places would, and wouldn't be painful. Once it was firmly in place, he thrust the plunger down violently – the very way that was the most dangerous.  
  
Then, still in this new, and reckless state of mind, he withdrew the needle and dropped it onto the desk. Then, he put his finger over the open wound, which was weeping blood, and tasted some of it. Next, he deflated the armband, and put that on the desktop as well. Already, he could feel the effects of the wizard's drug, and he carefully turned his chair around, so that he was facing the side of the desk that didn't have glass shards littering the floor around it. Gingerly, he made his way over to the large comfy chair, whose back tipped back to make an almost horizontal resting place.  
  
Before he could pull himself onto the padded seat fully, the drug kicked in. And it felt as though someone had kicked his legs in as well, because he collapsed onto the floor, both hands outstretched and grazing the velveteen tassels that edged the bottom of the chair. The carpet was soft and deep, and he allowed the combination of drink and drugs to carry him off into sleep. Just before he fully lost consciousness, a small sneeze escaped him, and it echoed in the otherwise empty study, soon covered up by a rumble of replying thunder.

* * *

It was Christmas time in the Malfoy manor, and the sixteen-year-old Lucius Malfoy eagerly surveyed the snow-laden grounds from the window of the carriage that was taking him up the main driveway and to the main entrance. Even from this distance, he could see his mother waiting at the door, her blonde hair in an elegant plait that trailed over her shoulder and down to her tiny waist. The golden light from within the manor was a sight he had sorely missed, and he impatiently tugged upon the cape of his driver, and urged him to go faster.  
  
The driver complied, whipping the horses into action, so that they bumped up the slight incline, and then drew to a perfect standstill before the great doors. Entrusting his trunk and other school things to the house- elves scurrying waist deep in the heavy snow, he threw open his carriage door, and careered up the many steps to his mother's awaiting arms. "It's good to have you back love!" she exclaimed, laughing slightly into his shoulder.  
  
"Good to be back, mother," he answered back, smiling as he looked over her head and into the hall beyond, which was decorated beautifully. Just as it always was...good enough to rival Hogwarts in his opinion! There was a twenty- foot fir tree, which was already clad in fairies, candles, baubles and even some singing tinsel, which at that moment was giving a soft rendition of 'In the Bleak Midwinter'.  
  
"But, please, could you stop growing?" she let go, and took a step back, looking him up and down critically. "Why aren't you wearing your scarf?" she asked, attempting a stern look that modulated into a broad smile. "Oh, come on inside, it's freezing out here!" His mother grabbed him by the arm, and tugged him inside, leaving the door open for the straggling house- elves. He heard the carriage drawing away, and then looked up when the tinsel suddenly stopped mid-song.  
  
_There's only one person I know who has that effect..._ Lucius thought, rolling his eyes, and then putting a sickly smile upon his face. He looked up to the main landing, to see his father leaning over the railings, a tight smile drawing his lips back in what seemed to Lucius more like a snarl. His hair was, as usual, down, and the ringlets in it made him look much like a love child of a Georgian monarch. This, naturally, embarrassed Lucius, but he did his best to act warmly towards his father...no matter how abhorrent the man's company was to him. Usually, he did his best to avoid him, preferring to spend time with his mother.  
  
"Lucius, my boy – back from school already?" his father asked, his voice devoid of humour, strutting down the stairs in his normal black dress- robes.  
  
"Yes father – the snow meant that the train had to leave early, or not at all," Lucius explained stiffly, watching his mother directing the house- elves with his luggage. Apparently, the East wing had been refurbished during the term, and his mother had decided he was now old enough to have his own set of proper chambers, as opposed to just a bedroom. He hoped she'd stay around to show him which ones were his...there were a lot of rooms in the East wing that he had not explored.  
  
"I see...well, I won't be stopping long – I have business to attend to," he declared, almost as though he expected them to be surprised. "Adriana, I won't be back for supper, so have the elves serve it in my chambers when I return."  
  
"Yes dear," she agreed, accepting the obligatory kiss before the man left through the still open doors, and stepped into the carriage that had in fact been turning around. When the hoof-beats had fallen from hearing, and the tinsel had started up again, Lucius' mother looked at him with a quirked eyebrow and a slight smirk. "Well...I suppose without your father around...we could always go into the cellar...and listen to the stereo for a while..."  
  
Lucius laughed, and followed his mother towards the only cellar in the house that his father didn't stock wine in. Instead, it was one that only he and his mother used, containing muggle paraphernalia that his father would never, ever have allowed them to keep if he had known about it. As such, it was his joy and delightful pleasure to join his mother in the taboo of enjoying muggle culture.  
  
Walking along, he noticed flashes of the house-elves as they hurried about, finishing the Christmas preparations. Each of them was wearing some form of tinsel crown or, in one case, a wreath of mistletoe. That was Dobby, their newest acquisition – Lucius shook his head as he saw the little fellow scampering after one of the female elves, mistletoe hopefully held aloft in his podgy paw.  
  
They finally came to a stop at the end of a corridor that would not have looked out of place in the Hogwarts dungeons. The walls were of roughly hewn stone, and the cool air made it obvious that this passageway was underground. There was even a light coating of vibrant green moss on the damp walls, and the heavy wooden door that his mother unlocked with a wrought iron key that had been hung on a hook set into the stone, was riddled with old woodworm scars. Adriana Malfoy (maiden name Xavier), leant upon the old door, and attempted to nudge it open with her shoulder.  
  
After this one useless attempt, she stepped back, and motioned that Lucius perform his usual duty. "You're useless, you are," he said, the common language of Hogwarts teenagers tripping off his tongue and echoing strangely from the walls. His mother looked a little stunned by the note of a Liverpudlian accent, but ignored it, instead watching as he effortlessly opened the entranceway to their den. "Would you like to go first, milady?" he queried, suddenly reverting to his usual, well-enunciated tone. Glad to see that all those lessons in eloquence were not wasted after all, she nodded her head, and entered.  
  
As soon as Lucius closed the door and shut out the gusts of cold air from the passageway, he was able to feel the comforting heat of the fire that had lit upon their entrance. The bright violet flames (his mother's choice, not his) clashed violently with the deep red carpet (his choice, not his mother's). The leather chairs (brown) that sat before the fire were bathed in the violet light, and after his mother flipped a switch by the door, two lights burned furiously above the pool table to the left. A small black and white television was to the right of the grand fireplace, and the stereo lay to the right, with stacks of cassette tapes and records (seven, nine and eleven inch) next to it.  
  
Lucius let out a contented sigh, and immediately took up his place as the music provider. "What do you want today?" he asked, rummaging through their quite impressive collection.  
  
"Well, I was working through them alphabetically," his mother said, lowering herself into one of the two chairs, and using her wand to magic up some warming hot chocolate and pink wafer biscuits (which Lucius hated). After a look at his face, she seemed to remember this fact, and added some chocolate biscuits to the plate – he nodded his thanks.  
  
"Well, what did you get up to?"  
  
"Well...I didn't manage to get any further than 'B', to be perfectly honest," she said, picking up her mug of cocoa and sipping it, little finger stuck out daintily from the handle. "I've been so busy with the East wing, I haven't had much time to come down here...and your father has been so dreadfully busy of late as well." A darker tone had entered her usually bright and lilting voice, making the French accent more pronounced than usual.  
  
"Indeed?" Lucius left his music search, and collapsed into his own chair, preferring the violet flames and his mother's voice to any music at that precise moment. "How so? Is Voldermort really that desperate for father's services?"  
  
"Don't use that name," Adriana snapped, before adding gently, "It just doesn't sit right with me... I still remember him as Tom, you see..." She sighed heavily, and put down her mug upon the tiny Victorian side table. "I...I'm not sure it's services Tom wants – rather, it seems to be funding." Lucius, who had been in the process of putting his own mug down again, let it fall with a loud clunk onto the wood.  
  
"Sorry!" he gasped, as some of the steaming russet liquid spilt over the old furniture.  
  
"Don't worry about it, this old thing's probably fake anyway," she said, waving her hand carelessly. "I just – I wish your father wouldn't get himself so mixed in with these people. I get the feeling that they'll start causing real trouble soon enough." A few strands of hair fell before her pale face, and she pushed them back with her left hand – the sleeve of her fine mint robes fell down slightly, and revealed a vicious looking bruise – she didn't seem to notice Lucius' intense gaze, and carried on. "He's been out of the house so often recently – often into the early hours...I...I worry about him, my love. He's getting too involved with Tom." She leant forwards, as though to tell a great secret, and in a low, despairing voice, she said, "I fear he's trying to emulate Grindlewald's campaign...and he certainly has the talent to do so..."  
  
"You mean...kill muggles?" Lucius asked, his eyebrows knitting in horror at the idea. "I know that they've not exactly been kind to us over the centuries, but isn't that a bit over the top?"  
  
A booming voice that neither of them would have wished to hear cut into the conversation. "Over the top? And, then, what would you call this elaborate use of _my_ manor then? This little hideaway, full of God awful muggle things!" Both of them turned with guilty horror etched on their faces, to see Lance Malfoy, currently the richest wizard in Europe, outlined in the doorway. From the corner of his eye, Lucius could see his mother's hand unconsciously encircle around her bruised forearm, and felt a snarl of hatred rise up in his throat. He wisely, however, kept his mouth shut.  
  
"No defence? Have neither of you anything to say?" he hissed dangerously, fingering the wand that was stuffed through his belt. "I would suggest that the both of you go upstairs immediately, and await an address in the winter drawing room," he said, one vein pulsing on his temple, and his face flushing angrily. Hurriedly, Lucius vacated his chair, and then helped his mother from hers – the hot chocolate and biscuits were carelessly left as they edged past the fuming man, and then rushed along the cold passageway to the main manor house.  
  
"I thought he said he was off for the evening," Lucius huffed, finding it difficult to keep up with his mother as she stormed up the stairs. "What's he doing back so early?"  
  
"He must have just drawn away in the carriage...I should have known we couldn't have hidden that for long," she said, more to herself than to her son. With a mad fear in her eyes that Lucius had never seen before, she grabbed him by the shoulders. "Whatever happens in the drawing room, make sure that you do not answer him back. When I said he hadn't been himself recently, I meant it darling." Again, her hand encircled her wounded arm.  
  
"Did he hit you?" Lucius asked quietly as they entered the pastel-blue drawing room. The dying light from outside poured through the un-shuttered windows, giving the whole room a detached feeling. As though it wasn't quite real...more a scene from a fairy-tale than a real-life manor in Berkshire.  
  
When he received no answer, he voiced the question again. "Mother, did he hit you?" he enunciated each word separately, so that there could be no confusion. He was startled by a shuddering sob from his mother, and rushed over to where she was leaning heavily on the ornately carved marble mantelpiece, one arm clutched around herself, the other lending support. He had not noticed when it had happened, but sometime between leaving the cellar and entering the drawing room, her hair had come undone, and was hiding her face.  
  
Gently, Lucius removed her hand from the marble surface, and pushed the hair back from her face – tears brimmed in her blue eyes, and he embraced her, knowing that a tide of anger was about to make itself known from his father. The sounds of crashing furniture and the tinkling of glass from far off, told him that Lance Malfoy was making doubly sure that no muggle things would ever be used within his home again. Briefly, Lucius wondered whether it would be better if the two of them should flee to his mother's parents' house...but, they would probably not be all too pleased to see them. They had not been pleased with their daughter's match...  
  
There was the sound of stomping footsteps, coming down the hall. Quickly, Adriana withdrew from her son, and used the palms of her hands to wipe away any trace of tears. "Promise me," she whispered, "Promise me that you won't say a word."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Promise, Lucius!" she only ever used his full name (rather than the endearing terms of darling, love, and on some occasions, Luc) when she was being serious. He nodded once, and then stood next to his mother, hands behind his back, military style. He had to repress the urge to insubordinately parody a salute, as his father slammed open the doors, so hard that he left dents in the panels, and entered the room.  
  
He stood there, cheeks sustaining a slight flush, and hands balled into fists, one of which contained his wand. Sparks were dancing up and down the length of wood, cracking and sizzling in the otherwise still air. "Adriana," he began, focusing his stony gaze upon the Malfoy heiress. "I believe I told you many times that it was expressly forbidden to keep muggle artefacts in my house." She nodded, casting her gaze to the floor. "And I believe I have also informed you that this rule is doubly important if I am to gain a good position in Lord Voldermort's office." He advanced just two steps into the room, but it was enough for Lucius to feel uncomfortably enclosed.  
  
"I will not tolerate such disobedience – it is not prudent for a woman to disobey her husband. As such, I cannot allow your insubordinations to continue without due punishment." The detached coldness in his father's voice was...terrifying. Lucius shuffled closer to his mother to try and glean some comfort, but, on feeling her shivering, he found himself even more afraid. _What's happened to father over the last three months?_ He wondered. _He's always been a stony cold bastard, but he's never been quite this...**insane**...before._  
  
"Lucius," he started at his own name. "Leave the room." He would have waited for a 'please', as that was proper, but the look in his father's eyes told him to move it. He stepped around his father, feeling his skin crawl as the man stopped him just before he could make his escape. "Close the doors behind you." Then, his shoulder was released, and he left the room, and, as he had been instructed, closed the doors behind him.

* * *

Draco had given up contemplating his own stupidity, and had turned his attention to the slices of toast that had been prepared for him. Lethargically, he reached out his arm, the muscles protesting their tiredness, and grabbed the plate on which the delightfully warm morsels lay. He took up one slice of the lightly browned bread, and took a small bite, chewing it a few times before gulping it down.  
  
This first bite had allowed him to discover an important fact – he was _ravenous_. The rest of the slice was soon devoured, and within a few minutes, the plate was devoid of anything but crumbs. Disappointed that the food hadn't managed to completely sate his appetite, he sullenly collapsed back onto his pillows, and looked at his clock. It was only one o'clock, but it felt like the middle of the night. This wasn't helped by the dark storm clouds over-head, which had only just begun to ebb away. The flashes of lightning were more infrequent, and the thunder was now only a soft purr.  
  
_Still, it's a bloody miserable day...typical English summer I suppose..._ He briefly lamented again the loss of his broomstick, and hoped that his father would deign it necessary to purchase him another. _I wonder if I can convince him to get me a Firebolt..._ These selfish thoughts of quidditch accessories didn't manage to keep his wandering attention for long, and he found himself returning to the recent events.  
  
When he had grabbed onto his father's wrist, he had noted that the dark mark seemed to be slightly blurred. He had seen it before of course, and knew what his father was...but he hadn't seen the mark so up close... He'd been sure that it had, however, been much sharper – and never before had there been bruises on the skin around it. He pondered the sight, wondering what it meant. Was the dark mark hurting him in some way? Had he done something to make Vol-_ I can't even think the name, let alone say it!_ Had he done something to make You-Know-Who angry?  
  
Draco couldn't imagine his father doing anything rebellious, so ruled that option out. _So, why the bruises?_ He briefly entertained the idea that the house-elves had been secretly kicking his father as he slept, and snorted quietly at the image this provided him. But, the image soon metamorphosed in his mind to just his father, leaning over him with a look of worry that quickly turned into the usual mask of indifference. _I know he **must** give a damn... So why can't he just show that he does?_  
  
He thought about his journey back from school that year – neither his mother or father had been able to make it to the station, so they had instead sent a chauffeur to drive him home. On platform 9 and ¾, he had seen parents literally run to greet their children, engulfing them in hugs and immediately demanding to know how their year had been, what they'd learnt, and so on and so forth. He doubted whether he'd ever receive such attention. _At least, not until I marry some high class bint...  
_  
He wished briefly to be someone else. Someone with a family that cared for them – and not necessarily a rich family either. _Someone like...someone like...Ron Weasley._ He blinked, and shook his head. _Where in the hell did that come from? **Weasel boy**? You want to be like Weasel? I think all that lake water's muddled your head up!_ He shook his head again, clearing the maddeningly prudent and narcissistic posh voice of his rich-boy conscience. _Well, at least then I'd have parents who actually **wanted** to know how my year had been..._  
  
Draco was drawn from his thoughts with the revelation that the sounds of the storm had stopped completely. He sighed, and the sudden intake of air spurred another coughing fit. Without his father here to help him out, they took a long time to subside, and when they did, he felt quite weak. With the strength he had left to him, he reached out and flicked on his wireless (which lay in the open drawer of his side-table). Some sort of popular music filtered out through the speakers, a ballad that was soft and soothing.  
  
He wriggled down beneath the covers, turned over onto his side, and closed his eyes. Within moments, he was asleep.

* * *

* * *

_Bah, stupid useless Malfoy family past over-ran. I promise the excitement will be in the next chapter. Can anyone tell me if the little study-scene with the needle made sense? I've seen it done in films like Train spotting, and have read about drug administration (of the legal kind), and was trying to emulate that. Not sure if I managed it though...  
  
Nest chapter is going to be fun. [Evil manic laughter] I'm going to enjoy myself a heck of a lot. Just so you know, it will be a continuation of Lucius' dream (that was what all the past stuff was...a lovely drug and alcohol fuelled dream!) Again, I just want to point out that I don't condone any sort of drugs or substance abuse, and I don't really like drinking either... I just like to watch Lucius walk on the wild side (and be completely out of character to boot!)  
  
That's enough of me rambling – now to spell check, laugh at my poor grasp of the English language, and update.  
  
Gabo0, I apologise for lack of sexiness. [Looks sweetly up from her spinny office chair.] You will like the next chapter, I promise you! Heck, I'll even dedicate it to you m'dear! As for everybody else (especially Kay Warren, if you've decided to come back for more), I hope you liked it.  
  
Soda  
  
PS: I had quite a difficult time finding names for his parents. I just ended up using a generic French and generic German name (why German? I have no idea). The French names were 'Adriana Xavier', and the German name was 'Lance'. I truly couldn't think of anything better. And, if his parents seemed a little wooden (especially horrible, boring Lance) tell me, and I'll attempt to improve them._

_PPS: Yay for Lucius centric chapters. [Fangirlish sigh]  
  
PPPS: OK, I'm really going now. Bye! _


	5. Contraction

**Contraction**  
  
_Disclaimer: [Stands on tiptoes, holds out fake ID, and hopefully smiles as she tries to get enrolled for driving lessons] I'm getting there, damn it all... Oh, and I don't own anything by Darren Hayes or Katie Melua (though I'd very much like to!)  
  
I apologise again for the references to drug use in the last chapter...for some reason, I can just imagine Lucius' life being bad enough to have to resort to such vices, in order to forget real life for a little while. I'll try not to do it again... However, wherever Lucius' gallivants off to, I have to follow, so I can't promise anything...  
  
In the last chapter, Lucius resorted to drastic measures of both drugs and drink in order to settle himself into a state of unconsciousness. Recent events have bought long buried memories to the surface of his mind, and his brain is so fogged with drugs that he cannot escape his trip to the past. Draco's just being boring and sleeping. So...it looks like another Lucius- centric chapter. (Am I making my fangirl intentions too obvious?) **Warning** – mentions of domestic violence, non-consensual sex, and a really daft author who wants to hurt a fictional father figure._

_I apologise if this chapter seems a little...tentative... The subject of domestic abuse is one that I find quite difficult (stupid idea of mine to write about it, I know). Any pointers appreciated._

* * *

* * *

The morning after Lucius' arrival back at the manor was a subdued one. His mother did not appear at breakfast, and his father stopped only long enough to glare at him, before again leaving on 'business'. Now aware of his father's tricky nature, Lucius followed quietly behind him, and watched through the great windows at the front of the house as the carriage rolled away down the hill. Only when it had exited the gates, and been driven out of view, did he really believe that his father had left the house.  
  
With his absence ensured for at least a couple of hours, Lucius felt safe to climb up the main staircase, and then slowly pad his way down heavily carpeted halls, to the west wing. It was here that the old family chambers were...and it was here that both his father and mother slept (albeit in separate rooms).  
  
Rounding the corner into the third floor corridor, he saw some house-elves exit the room, with towels that were covered in something... Something that looked suspiciously like blood! Another tide of the creatures appeared from a small secret passage hidden behind one of the panels on the wall, laden with fresh towels, and bottles of potion. As soon as the hall was devoid of elves, Lucius hurried down towards his mother's door, which had been left slightly ajar. He could hear quiet voices from within, and was contented when he heard his mother's voice ringing out clearly.  
  
"Has mister Malfoy left on business yet?" she enquired, obviously speaking to the house-elves that tended her. By edging slowly closer to the door, Lucius was able to get a glimpse into the room – annoyingly, his mother's bed was on the hinge side of the door, so he couldn't see her. He could still hear her though...which was good...  
  
"Yes, he has miss," a tremulous voice told her. "He has taken clothes and effects enough for three or four days, milady."  
  
"I see-" there was a sudden hissing intake of breath, and a whimpered 'ow', which was quickly stifled.  
  
"Sorry miss!" another house-elf exclaimed.  
  
"Don't worry about it, it has to be done after – ouch – all..." Unable to stand the terrible visions his mind was making up, Lucius extended a hand and gently rapped on the door. "Yes?"  
  
"It's me, mother," he called, pushing the door open, and stepping into the room. The curtains were still drawn, and the congregation of house-elves around her bed drew back as he approached. Squinting through the darkness, he saw that one of her legs was resting on a pillow above the coverlet, with a towel draped over it...her face was pale, but unmarked...and new bruises stood out lividly on her bare arms, fading into old ones. He stopped dead, hardly able to believe what his eyes were telling him.  
  
"Darling," she ventured softly, reaching out her arms. "No need to be alarmed darling; it was just a fight that got out of hand... Come, come over here and sit by me, hmm?" She patted the bed beside her – he briefly thought about it, but almost immediately declined, shaking his head violently.  
  
"He...how could he...? What did he do?" he asked, feeling helplessness sweep over him as the tide does over the shore. _I was outside that drawing room for an hour before father sent me away...and yet, I heard nothing..._ The thought that this attack had been pre-empted horrified him, but he knew that nothing could possibly have happened whilst he was still standing in that hall. He didn't want to...want to think that he could have been standing there whilst...whilst his father...and he had done _nothing_. "The – the," he grabbed around for a word to describe the disgusting creature, but couldn't find anything that seemed strong enough.  
  
"Lucius," Adriana implored, leaning forwards, and wincing as she dislodged the towel over her leg. A house-elf quickly tweaked it back into place, but in that short second, Lucius had seen all he needed to see. Muscle – even bone – peering out from an open wound that was still weeping a disparagingly large amount of blood. She looked down at her re-covered leg, and, again, her resolve seemed to weaken. "Lucius...just...forget this. Go and stay with that nice Snape boy for a while, until your father and I have sorted-"  
  
"There is no way I'm leaving you alone with that madman!" Lucius exploded. She looked a little taken aback, and he reined his anger as much as he could. In as calm a voice as he could muster, he said, "I'm going to owl grandmother Xavier, and ask that we be allowed to stay with them for Christmas. She may not like father, but she won't refuse if I request it-"  
  
"_No_ Lucius, you _mustn't_ do that!" the Malfoy woman exclaimed. "If she ever found out about this... I – I'd never live it down! It would just prove to her how much of a failure of a daughter I am! And I won't have any French high-brow idiots slandering _my_ husband!" She was now in such a state of rage that she neglected the wounds she had, and staggered out of bed, white camisole being stained by the blood that seeped from her wounds. The house- elves clustered to try and stem the flow, and push her back into bed, but she managed to kick them out of the way.  
  
"Mother!" the blond-haired teenager gasped, horrified by the staggering mess coming towards him. "Stop it, you need to get back into bed!"  
  
"I'm _**fine**_!" she assured him, voice suddenly it's usual airy self. She stumbled slightly, and Lucius reached out catch her before she could collapse onto the floor. "Just don't you dare send an owl to your grandmother. Lance may not be acting himself, but that's no reason to let that old battle-axe get involved!" Her eyes misted over slightly, "And, it will be the first Christmas we've spent together ever since you started school, after all!"  
  
With that hopeful statement still hanging in the air, she slumped, her head dropping down onto her chest. Half carrying, half dragging her, Lucius managed to take his mother to her bed, and lay her down upon it. The house- elves once again fell upon her, applying potions and towels to aid the healing process. With a sneer of disbelief, he realised something... _She still loves him...even after all that's happened._ He thought back to his father's various elicit affairs, with both men and women. When he had threatened her with divorce so that he could marry some Swedish floozy...  
  
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he left the room, with the full intention to go to the owlery. With his mother's pleas still so fresh in his mind, he found he couldn't bring himself to disobey her, and turned back, towards the main staircase. Treading a familiar path, once so fraught with excitement and joy, now one of despair and loss, he found himself at the scene of yesterday's 'crime against the Malfoy name'.  
  
The door had been obliterated, so that only one panel of the wood remained, hanging woefully from a rusted hinge. The violet fire no longer burned, and the red carpet held scorch marks. Most of the furniture had been incinerated, but the balls from the pool table still remained, buried beneath the ashes of the table itself. After a few moments of silent contemplation of the scene before him, he stepped into the wreckage of the former den.  
  
His feet crunched through a thin layer of shattered glass, which must have come from the two lamps that had once thrown light over the pool table. He noticed that one of the cues was still intact, leaning against the wall in an almost defiant manner. The television, on the other hand, was almost unrecognisable, a box of twisted, melted plastic, with a few wires haphazardly protruding from where the screen once was. _The sad thing is, I could probably sell that for a thousand Galleons to some collector of muggle artefacts..._he thought, finding it ironic that there should be such extremes within the wizarding world. Some wizards hated muggles, and some...well...some adored them to the point of it being a little scary...  
  
Shaking his head, he walked further into the room, making his way to where the stereo had once lain. His father's destruction had worked so well that he couldn't find anything that was recognisable to him as a stereo part. Frantically, he searched around for all his (and his mother's) tapes and LPs...yet, this search was almost as hopeless as the search for the stereo itself.  
  
Sighing, he sat down on what remained of his usual chair – the back of it had been ripped off, and the white synthetic stuffing was peering out of the open wound on the furniture. Looking around, he realised just how angry his father must have been the previous night... He'd never seen his father angry before... _Mind you, that's probably because you're always at school, and he's always at work. It's not surprising really, is it?  
_  
Finding the silence in the room oppressive, and not at all helpful in improving his mood, he got up from the chair, and hurried out, pulling the one panel of the door shut behind him. It swung slightly on its corroded hinge, before the metal finally gave way, and the last panel fell to the floor with a resounding crash. Lucius, so lost in his angry thoughts, barely flinched as the sound reached his ears. He didn't turn back, mot wanting to again view the destruction caused by his father's anger.  
  
Suddenly, he had the compelling need to get out of the stuffy confines of his home. With quickening footsteps, he climbed from the underground passageways into the much more lushly decorated ground floor walkways. Everywhere he looked, he could see reminders of the happy time of year it was supposed to be. _It certainly doesn't feel like it,_ he thought wryly. He noticed with some distaste that there was not a speck of red in the house...everything was of silver and green. No gold, no red. It was as though half the Christmas decorations had been lost, and replaced with the Slytherin house colours.  
  
_Was Christmas really like this back when I was younger?_ He wondered, walking past a tiny winding stairway that led to the kitchens downstairs. He was willing to bet that the amount of staff contained in the manor was enough to rival the workforce in Hogwarts. Tempting smells wafted up from below, but he ignored his imploring stomach. Right now, the oppressive nature of the manor and its finery was bearing down on him that he had to get out, or...well, he didn't want to think about it...

* * *

_"...Do you love me?   
Or am I just another trip, in this strange relationship?  
  
Gimme that strange relationship   
Never felt pleasure and pain like this   
Something so right but it feels so terribly wrong   
I keep holding on..."_  
  
_What in the fu-?_ Draco groggily opened his eyes, to find that his radio was still very much turned on – almost immediately, the grandfather clock, registering that he was awake, struck the hour. Three chimes told him that it was, in fact, three o'clock. As such, he must have been asleep for just under two hours. Groaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, and flicked off the radio, cutting the syrupy voice of one 'Darren Hayes' off in mid-song.  
  
He yawned, and stretched languorously, enjoying the feeling of being completely rested. Outside, the day had managed to turn into quite a nice one, with only a few stray eddies of cloud dotting the otherwise azure sky. Sullenly, he knew that he would be unable to take advantage of such lovely weather, owing to the fact that his broom was now a series of misshapen splinters. _I wonder if father would let me borrowhis one...no...best not interrupt him again so soon_, he decided, remembering his earlier actions, and guessing that his father wouldn't take kindly to being annoyed further.  
  
Instead, he rove his eyes around the room, looking for some sort of distraction. All he could come across was a stray quill lying on the floor next to his jade futon. _Priceless...I'm a bored Malfoy, and yet, I have nothing better to do than homework. Hah, well, aren't I living the highlife?_ He crawled out of bed, and rolled up the sleeves of his pyjamas (no matter how many times he assured his mother he didn't need the extra length on the arms, she had them extended anyway). Then, he went over to his trunk, which opened at a gentle touch from his forefinger.  
  
Surveying the contents, he tried to decide which piece of homework to complete first. He could either start off with the easy stuff and leave all the dull rubbish till later, or he could do the dull stuff and leave himself something easy to while the hours away with later on. After brief consideration (punctuated by a coughing fit and dizzy spell) he decided the easy stuff would be best. Considering the fact that he'd almost drowned and most probably had a cold, something too taxing might have an adverse effect on him after all.  
  
Removing his potions textbook and a pile of new parchment from his trunk, he noticed something very odd... _What's this doing in here?_ He wondered, removing his father's wand from his trunk. _Actually...how the hell did this even get in here?_ He scratched the back of his head in puzzlement, and then shrugged. _I suppose he must have dropped it, and then the house-elves must have assumed it was mine and chucked it in here...or something..._ He decided that that seemed like a reasonable explanation, and thought no more of it. _I'll give it back to him at supper._  
  
With this decision, he was able to pick up his book and parchment, along with the quill that was resting on the floor, and go over to his desk. There was already a pot of black ink in the inkwell to his right, and he sat down on his office chair, depositing book and parchment onto the desk. He opened the textbook to the appropriate page, drew a sheet towards him dipped his quill into the ink, and then began to write.  
  
After a few minutes, he found that the silence was quite stifling, and hurried over to his side-table in order to retrieve his radio. Then, he switched it on, and recognised with a pleased smile that the sultry tones of Katie Melua were coming at him through the contraption. He continued to write, whilst tapping his foot jauntily against his chair-leg in time to the music.

* * *

Lucius had quickly become accustomed to a routine in his time at home. On the days when his father was away on business, he would pop in to see his mother (and see what further damage Lance had inflicted upon her.) Each time, he would try and persuade her to come with him to grandmother Xavier's, but every time she insisted that everything was all right. Disheartened by this, he would then usually return to his chambers, in order to brood and plot, and come up with nothing sensible. After that, he would take a cloak from his wardrobe, and then walk around the grounds until it started to get dark once again.  
  
When his father was at home, he would skip past his mother altogether, and go straight outside into the snow. Often, he would make his way to the gazebo by the lake, and sit there, staring at the glassy surface of the frozen water, and contemplate his options. Alas...they weren't many. He didn't feel it would be prudent to bother Severus during his Christmas holiday – it was the first Christmas for both of them that they'd be spending at home since they started Hogwarts. _And, I very much doubt that Severus is having quite such a terrible time of it,_ he thought, ruefully drawing patterns in the snow with his foot.  
  
It was on one such occasion when his father was home, that Lucius decided he may as well make use of all this snow. So, stooping down, he gathered some in his bare hands, and pressed it into a ball. With a muttered curse, he removed his hands from the icy powder, and waved them in the air, which only succeeded in making the burning feeling of cold even worse. _I'm sure I had some gloves around here **somewhere**!_ He went through his pockets, and then remembered that he had left his gloves on the table next to the front door. _Damn it!  
_  
The painful feeling in his fingers had turned to a numb tingling, and he decided that he wouldn't let the cold stop him. So, using a combination of his hands and feet, he began to roll his ball of snow around, picking up more of the glittering white powder as he went. Soon, he had quite a sizeable sphere of the stuff, and he paused, panting slightly because of the cold. His breath misted in the air, and he laughed for a reason that he couldn't really understand. It had been so long since he'd last just _messed_ about in this manner. He had been being preened for the next Malfoy patriarch, that he hadn't been allowed much time to act childishly.  
  
Finding the snow bizarrely amusing, he laughed again, the sound echoing loudly across the grounds, barren of any life apart from him...or, so he thought...  
  
Suddenly, a snowball caught him in the side of his face – he was so stunned that he fell over sideways, collapsing right onto the body of his snowman, and rendering it dead. "Hey!" he exclaimed, trying to get back to his feet, but stumbling on his cloak on the way. Clearing the snow out of his eyes and from his face, he looked up. And his jaw dropped. "Father?" He was surprised to see a cheeky smile spreading across his father's face, and couldn't help but to return it. The audacity of his attack was quite humorous, after all...  
  
"I just realised that I've been working so hard, that I haven't spent any time with you," he said, shrugging slightly. Lucius felt as though he wanted his jaw to drop again, but managed to keep it clamped shut.  
  
_What in the world is going on? One minute, he's the evil demon bastard from hell, the next he's throwing snowballs at me?_ "Uh...yeah," Lucius replied lamely, continuing to rake snow from his hair, and shuddering as a lump of it managed to creep down the back of his collar. _...I'm confused..._  
  
"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to fight?" his father demanded, reaching down to grab another handful of snow. Lucius blinked, shook his head, and then looked down at his decimated snowman.  
  
"Well, actually..." he stepped out of the way of the pile of snow, and Lance's grey eyes fell upon it. "I _was_ making a snowman, until you knocked me over into it. It's more of a snow-mess now," he tried to inject some humour into the situation, as he felt distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realise!" his father said, and he sounded sincere. Lucius raised an eyebrow as his father waded towards him through the snow, head bowed apologetically. "What about if I help you make another one?" he asked, throwing a shoulder over Lucius' shoulder. Lucius felt glad that none of his friends were around to see him like this. As it was, he felt embarrassed, and tried to stealthily shrug the arm off.  
  
"Well, I suppose- GAH!" something cold and wet was stuffed down the back of his shirt, and his father staggered backwards through the snow, _laughing_. Lucius tried unsuccessfully to remove the clump of snow from his shirt, and then looked murderously at his father. "You do realise that this means war, don't you?" His father, still laughing, just nodded his head, and clutched his stomach in mirth. _Well, this is certainly...different... It's the first time I've seen him smile, let alone laugh, in about five years...  
_  
He felt a smile come to his own face, and took up two handfuls of his slaughtered snowman, and chucked them at his defenceless father. They made intricate patterns of white crystals all over his cape, and he abruptly stopped laughing. He looked up at Lucius, eyes narrowed dangerously, and then smiled widely. "I'm giving you five seconds to run before I bombard you with more snow than you could ever imagine," he said, conversationally. Lucius stood his ground, a determined grin on his face. "Go on, I mean it."  
  
"Do your worst," Lucius dared him, suddenly finding himself able to fall right back into the old relationship he had had with his father when he was younger. _Maybe...maybe it's just the stress that made him... If we can just get him to stop helping out Riddle...then he'll be back to normal..._ Lucius plotted even as he fled from his father's threat of a snowball bombardment. Of course, Lance had been bluffing completely, as he threw a round of snowballs as soon as Lucius had turned his back.  
  
The Malfoy boy continued to run, planning to set up some sort of fortress like area within the gazebo, which wasn't far from where they were. Breath trailing behind him like the steam of the Hogwarts express, he hurried to his shelter. There, he wiped snow off of the benches, and using the ten- second advantage he had on his father (who was a much slower runner), he managed to construct a pile of snowballs, all ready to pelt him with.  
  
As soon as he was in range, he let loose a volley – two connected, and one missed, and then his father was close enough to physically tackle him, causing the both of them to topple off the gazebo steps altogether, and into a large snow-drift. The vibrations caused by their landing managed to shake the structure of the gazebo, and a great sheet of snow collapsed from the roof and onto them. Laughing, Lucius began to burrow to the surface – his hand connected with his father's arm (he was to the left of him), and was grabbed.  
  
Both of his eyebrows launched to the top of his forehead in surprise, as his father managed to pull him out of the drift with little effort. Both of them were covered in snow, and Lucius sneezed as some of it tickled his nose. Lance looked a little worried, and looked back up at the manor. "We'd best get you back inside I think...wouldn't want to catch a cold over Christmas after all, would you?"  
  
"Nah, I'll be fine," Lucius protested, as he was propelled back up the hill and through the grounds to the main entrance. Another sneeze escaped him as they made their way up the main steps, and Lance again threw an arm over his shoulder, squeezing him slightly against his side. From the corner of his eye, Lucius noted that his father was still smiling, and smiled as well. It was nice to have his 'old man' back to normal. _Or, at least, normal for five years ago anyway..._  
  
As they entered the hall, the heat of the house seemed to sear his bare fingers, and he had to clench and unclench his fist in order to try and relieve the dreadful pins and needles that assaulted his hands. His father continued to compel him to move forwards, and even went so far as to walk him to his chambers. He opened the door, and then followed in behind Lucius, closing the door behind him. Lucius found this odd, but didn't question it, he was so eager to get out of his sodden clothes and into some dry ones.  
  
"I'll just go and get changed, might have a shower..." Lucius said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the bathroom. Lance nodded, and took a seat in front of Lucius' fireplace – he pointed his wand at it, and muttered,  
  
"Incendio," and immediately, the marble surround was filled with merrily dancing flames. "I'll get the house-elves to bring us some cocoa, shall I?" There was now a slightly funny edge to his father's voice, but Lucius just put it down to the cold.  
  
"...yeah, all right," he agreed, padding into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He noted in annoyance that the lock on it still hadn't been fixed, and the bar didn't align with the catch on the doorframe. _Ah well, it's not like anyone's going to come in, so who cares?_ He removed his cloak, and couldn't be bothered to hang it up, so left it lying in a waterlogged heap on the floor. The same went for his clothes.  
  
He reached out, and turned the faucet for the shower – immediately, pleasantly warm water spewed forth, and he stepped straight into the shower, the shock from cold to hot painful for a few seconds, before the warmth penetrated his frozen body completely. Then, he sighed, and turned the temperature dial so that the water was so hot that it was creating steam. He sighed again, and closed his eyes, ducking his head under the almost scalding stream.  
  
_Well, whilst I'm here, may as well make sure all of me is clean._ He reached out blindly for the soap rack, and managed to find the cold glass of his jar of expensive shampoo. Fumbling slightly, he managed to knock the lid of it off, and scooped a little of the gloopy substance out from the container. This, he transferred to his hair, and he rubbed it into his scalp, before washing the lather away and repeating the action. This done, he leant against the cool tiles of the shower, which were covered in condensation, and basked in the heat of the room. _I could stay here all day...  
_  
There was a clicking sound, and he opened his eyes to see what had made it. However, a neglected droplet of shampoo managed to get into his eyes, and the stinging sensation coaxed a swearword from him as he rubbed his eyes with his fists. "Bloody hell, ow!" he again reached out, this time seeking the towel that was on the rack just outside the shower door. It wasn't there... But, I distinctly remember it being there – where's it gone? He bent down, thinking that it might have fallen on the floor, and felt around for it.  
  
He didn't find it. He did, however, find something that felt suspiciously like a foot. Ignoring the agony of his eyes for two seconds, he opened them, and looked up with blurry vision. Yet, not even blurred vision could allow him to mistake the identity of the person in the bathroom with him. "Dad?" he exclaimed, using the old endearment in his shock. "...what are you doing in here?" He felt suddenly terribly self-conscious. And, he noticed, almost as a side note, _he's wearing my towel.._. All thoughts of the shampoo in his eyes vanished, as he began to stand up, hoping that the frosted glass of the shower door was opaque enough...  
  
Lance licked his lips, and waited for Lucius to stand up before replying. "I just thought I might join you," he said simply, reaching out to open the door further. Lucius' hand shot out, and grabbed the smoothed edge of the glass.  
  
"What the fuck is up with you?" he asked, hands clenching on the glass. "You _cannot_ be serious! This is _absurd_!"  
  
"Oh, really?" the smile that had been present on Lance's face wavered a little, and then flickered out altogether. "I find it quite absurd that you are being insubordinate, _boy_. Do remember whose roof you're living under." All of this was said coolly, and Lucius' eyes widened as his father loosened his towel. He turned away, and in doing so stumbled slightly on the slippery floor of the shower. He let go of the shower door in order to steady himself, reaching out and slamming one hand hard against the wall. His arm jarred, and he winced slightly.  
  
This was forgotten when he felt a hand creeping around his waist, and bare skin against his side. He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, before violently attempting to escape, writhing in the suddenly iron-grip around him. "Get the hell off me!" he hissed, his feet sliding across the floor as his father dragged him back under the jet of the shower.  
  
The swathes of steam caused by the water meant that Lance didn't notice the bar of soap Lucius had inadvertently knocked from the stand when he had slipped. His foot landed upon it, and he stumbled in much the same manner that Lucius had, and relinquished his grip. This allowed Lucius to explode from the shower, slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the glass cracked. In his flight, he paused only to pick up his cloak, and then he sprinted from the bathroom and into his bedroom, which felt freezing in comparison.  
  
Shivering from both cold and fright, he went over to his door, and rammed straight into it, expecting it to open. It didn't... He reached down and fumbled with the handle, trying to force it downwards – then, he wondered if it had been locked, and tried to find the key...it was to no avail. At the sound of the bathroom door slamming, he turned around, his back to the door. With one hand, he clutched the cloak around himself...with the other hand, he search for anything he could use as a weapon...  
  
The only thing within his reach was a vase – he shuffled closer to it, always keeping his back to the wall. His father, an angered look in his eyes, advanced, and Lucius saw with horror that his wand was in his hand. In a panic, he took up the vase, and hurled it blindly. It shattered on the floor a good foot short of the target. Lance smirked, and raised an eyebrow at his son. "No wonder I've always won at snowball wars," he said, the lightness of his voice not suiting the situation.  
  
"Stay away from me," Lucius stuttered. "I-I'm warning you, don't come any closer!"  
  
"Or what? You'll throw another vase at me?" he enquired mockingly. The blond Malfoy gulped, hand once again searching for something to use as a weapon. "This is boring me," his father suddenly snapped, and Lucius flinched as he raised his wand. A spell that he had not heard before issued from his father's lips. "Imperio!" His limbs suddenly felt weightless, and he was unable to move. _What the hell-?_  
  
"Come over here Lucius," Lance commanded, and Lucius wanted to scoff at the suggestion... However, his limbs obeyed without any consultation with his brain, and he walked over to his father. There was a glint of greedy indulgence in the eyes of the Malfoy patriarch, and Lucius tried to order his legs to run – somehow, though, he could not make his body do anything at all. "Very good," Lance nodded, obviously pleased with the result of his spell. He reached out, and poked Lucius in the chest with one finger – he collapsed rigidly to the floor.  
  
_Ow!_ The younger Malfoy found that, not only could he not move, he also couldn't speak. The only thing he could manage to do was to move his eyes. And right now, they were focused fearfully upon his father, who was bending down next to him with a delighted smirk on his face. He reached out a finger, and stroked it gently across Lucius' cheek. Lucius felt the wish to recoil, but again couldn't move.  
  
Before he knew what was happening, his father had grabbed onto his chin forcefully, and attacked his mouth with nipping teeth and an exploring tongue. Repulsed, Lucius fought against the effects of the spell, and managed to bite down hard upon the prying tongue in his mouth. His father recoiled, and pushed his head onto the floor, so that it collided painfully against the stone. "You'll regret that," he whispered, reaching down to nip softly upon the supple skin of the blond's neck. Then, he drew back again, and levelled his wand between Lucius' eyes.  
  
"Crucio," he said calmly. Lucius blinked once, confused by the sound of yet another new spell. _What- Fucking hell!_ That didn't quite cover it, but, after two seconds, the very idea of thinking was painful. The whole world was reduced to pain and suffering, and he was at the centre of it. His skin felt as though it were on fire, every bone as though it had been fractured in multiple places. His insides writhed, and his heart felt as though it was going to explode out of his constricting rib-cage – each breath was a bombardment of daggers on his throat, and when he closed his eyes, it only succeeded in making the whole thing worse...  
  
Quickly as the pain had come, it went. He gasped, taking in all the air he had missed out on during the curse. The world was spinning, and he only just made out his father's grim face. "I'd suggest you behave," he said silkily, fingering the tapered ebony wand in his hands. "Either that, or I'll have to do this again... Crucio." The pain came, and almost immediately went again – it still left Lucius gasping for air.  
  
He could feel bile rise insistently in his throat as his father picked his paralysed body from the floor, and literally threw him onto his very own bed. His copy of 'Hogwarts, a history' was swept onto the floor with a loud thud, and then the burly body of his father pressed down on top of him. The urge to be sick was even greater when he realised that his father was..._aroused.  
_  
With a great effort, he swallowed the churning contents of his stomach back down, and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at his father. "Imperio," was murmured again, and then, once more, Lance leant down to whisper into his ear. "You will kiss...and you will do as I say...understand?" He nodded even before he could comprehend the implications of the words...

* * *

* * *

_Mwa ha ha ha! I leave it there for I am evil! (And also because this chapter is already ten pages, and I want to draw the whole thing out for a very long time...which means I'll cut it short and leave a cliff hanger, rather than give you a ridiculously long chapter). I'm mean, aren't I?  
  
The idea of his using the Imperius and Cruciatus curses came about, because, well, Voldermort is meant to have 'invented' them, as such. This would mean that Lucius wouldn't have heard of them, and he wouldn't have any kind of immunity to their effects... Which means Lance can tell him to do **whatever** he wants him to do.  
  
(I wish I had that kind of power... [Evil cackle.])  
  
Also, the lyrics are from Darren Hayes' 'Strange Relationship'. I thought it would work, what with the strange relationship between Lance and Lucius, and also the awkward relationship between Lucius and Draco. **See**, I do think about these things at times!  
  
Tune in next chapter for more depravity from the keyboard of canihavea- soda.  
  
PS: Sorry if that snowball scene seemed...odd. I was trying to make it so that Lance was gaining Lucius' trust, in the hopes that he would give into his sexual wiles. Or something like that... (OK, I'll admit, the idea of Lucius frolicking in the snow just amuses me.) _


	6. Convection

**Convection**  
  
_Disclaimer: Feh, I'm bored with my evil plans. I'll just play with them and put them back later.  
  
This chapter is for all of you crazy lot out there. [Smirk] And, Fair deviln1, I agree with you on the two pretty men front... However, if I just let them get on and do the dirty, then what would be the point of the fic anymore? It'd be over. [Grin] I'd like to keep you all in suspense for a few more chapters! (All because I'm just a greedy review-whore...)  
  
In the last chapter, we were immersed still further into Lucius' past. And we managed to see the beginning of a relationship that was less than beautiful. Because, well...a Malfoy always gets what a Malfoy wants, and Lance had been after his prize for a long time. This is picking up from where I left off with my nasty cliff-hanger. [Deep breath]. Oh dear me, looks like I have to attempt another sex scene. What a **terrible** shame. (**Warning:** Urm...heh...if this is bad, you all have permission to flame me. Also, there will be a lot of gratuitous teenage swearing. Because making Lucius swear is one of the many perks of my life.)_

* * *

"Imperio," was murmured again, and then, once more, Lance leant down to whisper into his ear. "You will kiss...and you will do as I say...understand?" Lucius nodded even before he could comprehend the implications of his father's words...  
  
As soon as Lance had divulged his orders, the hand that had been clutching his wand relinquished the weapon, and trailed lazily down Lucius' paralysed form. He was still clad in his cloak, which was wet through from all the snow he had come into contact with outside. It clung to every slight bump of his ribcage, heaving in his panicked state, and then dipped inwards to indicate his narrow waist (most certainly inherited from his mother), before finally tightly hugging his pelvis and slim hips.

* * *

All in all, this was a very pleasing turn of events for Lance, but the cloak was a very teasing addition to his fantasy. So, with one hand, he forced Lucius' to follow his magic-laden orders, and was delighted when a shy tongue reached up to meet his own. With the other hand, he began to peel the wet fabric of his son's expensive black cloak away from his pale, perfect skin. The agonizing slowness of this process only added to his enjoyment...  
  
However, as with all good things, one can get bored of them, and Lance was one who got bored more easily than most. (That is, perhaps, one of the most startling effects having everything one could wish for has on people. Nothing ever thrills them...) So, now that he was sure his spell was not liable to break down at any time in the near future, he felt confident enough to use both hands to finally tear the clothing away from the lithe body beneath him.  
  
When the fabric was gone, he sat up, so that he was astride his wide-eyed son, and surveyed his new possession. _Exquisite. Simply exquisite,_ he thought...and, well, being a Malfoy, he _would_ know. The look on his son's face was not quite the one that he would have liked, but it would have to do. _After all, you can't have everything I suppose..._ Ponderously, he took to studying the boy he had long wanted for with his hands, intrigued (and secretly delighted) to find that his son was not quite the skinny little wretch he had always taken him to be.  
  
To be fair, he was on the thin side, but it was not for lack of food (if his eating habits at home were anything to judge by.) However, all his pushes to get the boy interested in Quidditch had indeed done him good, as solid muscle lay beneath his pearlescent skin, leaving no room for fat whatsoever. And...there were other things about his son that pleased him as well... He smiled...

* * *

_Fuck – fuck – fuck – fuck – fuck – fuck._ This was the general train of thought running through the mind of Lucius Malfoy as his own _father _studied him. With every movement of skin against skin and every lingering gaze, he wanted to flinch, but could not due to the spell he was under. _This cannot be happening. This **isn't** happening._ He blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyelids to remain shut, and finally managed his task just as Lance leant down for another claiming plunder of his mouth.  
  
_Stop it! Don't – get a grip. I don't want...no, stop it!_ Lucius yelled in his mind, both at himself and at his father. He couldn't for the life of him understand _why_ he was even responding...his tongue seemed to have acquired a mind of its own, and he noted that his father's mouth tasted much like an ash tray. _He should really stop smoking all those cigars..._he thought, and was stunned that such an asinine thought could have come into his head at a moment like this! _How do I make it stop?_ He wondered, shuddering as his father – _my bloody **father** for God sake!_ – brushed his hand on the sensitive skin that covered his protruding pelvic bone.  
  
"Like that?" Lance queried, drawing back slightly to look down with a lusty smirk at Lucius' alarmed expression. He wanted to shake his head, but again found himself unable to do so. After licking his lips, and then smirking even more widely at the blond, Lance sat up once more, and shuffled backwards along Lucius' prone body, until he was sitting across his pale legs. Only able to follow him with his eyes, Lucius swore as he saw what his father's hands had elicited during the last kiss.  
  
"Seems so," Lance quirked an eyebrow, and then looked upon his son's arousal with hungry eyes. _No no no no no no no- Fucking hell!_ Lucius squeezed his eyes tightly shut when a hand, the palm of which was still very cold indeed after their stint outside, wrapped around his member, and tugged, a thumb running over the end in a manner that bought out an unsolicited groan. He concentrated hard on not letting out any more sounds like _that_ again, biting his tongue and taking great interest in the spots that were appearing on the inside of his eyelids.  
  
When the hand was removed after what couldn't have been more than a few seconds, he unclenched his jaw, and registered that blood was now beginning to fill his mouth. _Ow._ He was still aroused, and the heat around his groin had become so intense that it was painful. _Need to – but not – it's not right..._ His thoughts were now hazy, and he had to close his eyes again just in order to prevent the room from spinning before him in a most nauseating manner. _Please...let him go away.  
_  
His silent wish wasn't, alas, granted. Whilst the room was now very much silent, with only the thundering of his own heart, and the breathing of his father to tell him that he was alive, and not alone, there was tension in the air. He didn't dare to open his eyes, fearing what sort of look would be on Lance's face. _I don't want to make him angry..._he thought, remembering the pain of the curse he'd been threatened with. _So you're just going to let him do this to you? Fucking coward!_  
  
_What can I do? I can't even move...  
_  
Suddenly, this internal struggle was interrupted, when two very startling things occurred at once. Firstly, a hand had roughly encircled around to underneath his backside, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Secondly, something warm and moist had just enveloped his throbbing length. His eyes flew open, and the sight before him sickened him so much that he could no longer contain his rage. With a great wrenching movement that caused almost as much pain as the earlier curses, he managed to break through the invisible tethers of the spell, and was then able to push Lance from on top of himself, without doing himself any further damage.  
  
There were tears in his eyes, which made his view of the world, which was already hazy, almost non-existent. He did, however, know that his father's wand was on the bed behind him, and reached out blindly to try and find it. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Where is it?_ His fingers closed on something cool and smooth, and he clenched his fist tightly around it. Then, he bought the wand up, and pointed it at the space before him, where he knew his father would soon reappear.  
  
Or so he thought...

* * *

Draco dropped his quill complacently onto his desk, surveying the potions essay he had just written. His hand was now covered in a series of ink stains, and he reached forwards to grab a sheet of blotting paper from the pile by the inkwell, and pressed it over his work, ensuring that it would not become smudged when he then folded it in half, and placed it inside the front cover of his textbook. Feeling highly pleased with himself, he tipped his chair back slightly, and turned up the radio next to him.  
  
To his irritation, at that very moment, the muggle news came on, and he reached out a hand to flip the wireless off. However, two words caught his immediate attention, and he stayed his hand. "Some sort of explosion has occurred outside the houses of parliament. At five thirty three today, a group of masked people exited a black convertible sports car, and then proceeded to set of explosive devices in front of the government buildings. It is believed that they were part of the chain-gang of terrorists who call themselves the 'Death-beaters'. It has been confirmed that three members of the foreign consulate have been killed, and many more have been injured. We cannot confirm at this time..." Draco blinked. _Death eaters... At the muggle parliament...what the-?_  
  
He shook his head, and then did the same to the radio, trying to see if there was something wrong with the tuning...however, all he succeeded in doing was to turn the volume dial so that when the next news bulletin (about forest fires in Australia) came around, it nearly deafened him. Startled, he dropped the radio, and then scrambled around to turn the thing off before his father heard it.  
  
When he'd done this, he dropped the radio back onto the floor, and sat back in his chair, wondering. _Why though? Is **he** trying to get the muggles to notice **him**? If so...why? What help would that be to the Death eaters?_ A sudden thought crossed his mind, and despite the direness of the current situation, he managed a cheeky smile. _Well, if dad's out with the Death eaters, then that means I could go and use his broom...and I could give his wand back as – hang on a minute! He doesn't have his wand, so how could he possibly have...?_ He could have almost hit himself for being so incredibly stupid, but managed to refrain.  
  
_So the question is...why wasn't he there...or did he go and get into trouble?_ As per usual, Draco was beginning to get slightly panicky about the whole affair. Whilst he most certainly didn't _agree_ with what his father did, that didn't mean that he wanted to see the Malfoy patriarch hurt in any way. _Maybe he's still at home..._he thought, twirling the material of his too- long pyjamas in nervous fingers. _But what if he isn't?_  
  
_Damn it..._ He sighed heavily, and then rocketed up from his seat, sending the wheeled chair rushing back a few feet on its coasters._ I guess I should get dressed, otherwise father'll be annoyed..._  
  
_I don't think he'll care if he's dying, do you?_ Having succeeded in completely terrifying himself, Draco grabbed the nearest thing at hand that he could throw over his pyjamas (being a thick velvet dressing gown in midnight blue), and cannoned out of the door. A second later, he barged straight back in, and picked up his father's wand from his desk. _If he's all right, I'll say I was coming to give this back to him...and if he isn't...at least I have something to fight with..._ He tied the cord of the dressing gown tight around himself, and then purposefully set off on the (quite long) journey to his father's chambers.

* * *

Lance felt pain jolt through his as he connected with the floor. His jaw ached where it had connected with the edge of the bed on the way down, and he felt anger well up inside of him. _Little bitch..._ The glass bed-head of his son's bed showed him quite clearly what the intentions of the naked blond were, and he stealthily crept around to the other side of the bed, vaguely proud when Lucius bore the weapon, obviously thinking he was ready to strike his father. _I suppose at least the coward tried..._ What little respect he had for his son was shattered when he stood up, and deftly plucked the willow and unicorn wand from the shaking hands of the boy.  
  
He turned his head, and looked up at Lance, startled tears clinging to very tips of his long eye-lashes, that gave him that perpetual sultry look... _Weak imbecile._ Lance thought darkly, raising his wand contemptuously, further angered when Lucius flinched and closed his eyes, turning his head away from the source of his punishment. The brunette man decided to discard his wand for favour of much older methods. So, he carefully placed it on the small bed-side table next to the four-poster, and then reached out a curling hand to pin Lucius' to the bed by his throat.  
  
The boy just recoiled, but didn't open his eyes, or try to escape. And, rather like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, his breathing was rapid and erratic, and the punch Lance administered had little effect on the respirational habits of the boy. (The dark violet bruise it formed about thirty seconds after the initial blow, was, however, quite beautiful in Lance's eyes.) He plied another couple of blows to the boy, who made no sound, and only continued to cry like a _girl.  
_  
_Fucking weak... Just like his mother...stupid... I shall have to get rid of her before her influence ruins him further._ Lance managed to decide in quite a cold, business-like manner, at the same time as straddling the quivering blond yet again. Bored of his games, and having studied all that he wished to, he roughly turned the boy over. Lucius whimpered quietly, and sniffled, more tears staining the fine coverlet on the bed.  
  
"Stop crying you pitiful idiot!" Lance hissed, grabbing a handful of that tempting golden hair, and yanking Lucius' head back so that his throat was exposed. The fair, soft skin shifted as his son audibly gulped, and Lance leant down to bite hard upon it. He managed to break the skin in his anger, and a tangy, salty rush of blood filled his mouth. He licked the wound, Lucius shuddering beneath him, and then added another one like it to the boy's pale shoulder.  
  
These claiming marks made, he decided that the only due punishment for Lucius was not to prepare him for what pleasures he was about to take. With a twisted smirk, he let the blond's head drop back onto the coverlet, and the marks he'd made began to make little red stains in the sheet, which were slowly blooming outwards into larger, flower-like patterns.

* * *

_Just close your eyes and it isn't happening,_ Lucius told himself, desperately willing himself to believe it was so. The bites on his throat and shoulder were killing him, and when he turned his head to the side (his movement hindered by the hand that was still on his throat), more blood spilled from the wound on his throat. _Please...just stop it..._ All the tears he had cried hadn't helped him at all...if anything, they'd made the whole thing worse...  
  
For, now his nose was so full of phlegm that it was impossible to breath through it – he was having to rely solely on the oxygen he could gain through his mouth, and with his head being pressed into the mattress, this wasn't a lot... Not to mention the gaping hole in his neck was hindering the expanse of his windpipe. _In fact...I'm feeling sort of dizzy..._ He realised, panicking as he foresaw himself suffocating to death. _Though I suppose that would be better than living through this..._

_

* * *

_

With glee, Lance reached out and took up his wand again. Lucius, who had briefly opened his eyes, snapped them shut again, and his fists, which were pinned to his sides, curled into fists. Not knowing what it was the boy expected, he decided to cast his spell silently, enjoying the confusion that fluttered across the face of the beauty beneath him, as thin strips of leather appeared around each wrist. Of course, Lucius couldn't see them, but he would soon feel their effects...  
  
His fists un-tensed, and then lay still. _That'll keep any wandering hands from finding a way to escape..._ Lance yet again disposed of his wand, this time throwing it across the room in a fit of passion and anger.  
  
Finally, with a deep sense of triumph, he lowered himself over his son, resting almost his entire weight on the boy as he immersed himself in the pleasures of being inside him. His thrust was goaded into swiftness by his anger, and he quickly withdrew again, ignoring the imploring cries that he stop, not caring for the way Lucius begged him to discontinue. With brutally adept fingers, he reached around grabbed onto the still aroused member of the boy, and used his talented digits to _force_ him to enjoy himself.

* * *

"Please, stop...don't! Stop it! Stop – Oh God...!" Lucius couldn't breathe, and his eyes rolled back in his head as the combination of pleasure-pain got the better of him, and he lost all coherent trains of thought. He no longer had any air with which to voice his pleas, and he was unable to move at all. Just a dead weight to be played with at that moment in time...  
  
Lance's hands, talented as they were, were also able to ply a combination of pain and pleasure so intense that Lucius couldn't decide if it hurt or not... _This is...not...right... Please...stop...please..._ The problem was...he knew that he didn't want it to stop. Not now – if it stopped now it would only provide him with even more agony than if it were to continue. The burning sensation caused by each thrust into him was counter-acted by the pleasurable strokes of hands on his arousal, and it was bringing him to the edge, and he just couldn't...  
  
Couldn't control himself anymore...  
  
_I – can't enjoy this. No...it's sick. But...it feels...no...I..._ He cut himself off mid-thought as his fuse finally ran out, and his orgasm exploded into the world in a surprisingly vocal manner. "Oh...fuck...oh God!" was all he could managed before Lance also joined in with his own growling purr of,  
  
"Fucking hell..."

* * *

Draco stopped in front of the door to his father's chambers, noting that it was slightly ajar – slowly, he put his head around the door, squinting in the dull-light of the entranceway. The oak panelling on the wall was dented were the door-handle had hit it, and he wondered exactly how angry you had to be to make such a mark... _I'm not sure I want to know... But I think I'm about to find out...  
_  
The contents of his stomach churning alarmingly, he pushed the door open further, wincing as the hinges squeaked slightly. Then, he stepped into the little hallway, concentrating hard as he tried to recall which floorboards creaked. (It had always been a favourite past time of his father's to play hide and seek with him when he was about four or five, and Lucius' room was always so full of oddities that it provided the average five year old with hundreds of possible hiding places.) Glad that his memory had served him well, he padded across the soft Persian rugs of his father's lounge to his bedroom.  
  
_Not in here...and not in there either,_ he thought, after checking both the bedroom and bathroom. And that left..._the study..._ Previous experience told him that it was never wise to disturb his father when he was in his study...and yet...if he was in trouble... _And if he isn't, I'll just give his wand to him and hope he doesn't get too angry._ Fortified by this sensible decision, he ambled over to the study door, which was ajar, just as the front door had been.  
  
The small sliver of the room that he could see through the gap between door and wall was very dark, the curtains half drawn and cutting out the strong afternoon sunlight. From here, Draco could see that his father's chair was empty, and there was one fine crystal glass sitting on the desk. Advancing with his father's wand clutched tightly in his hands, he pushed the door open, and surveyed the room.  
  
_Where is he?_ He wondered, looking around the gloomy room. Then, his eyes fell upon a figure lying outstretched on the floor, just before the large comfy chair to the left. When he saw patches of blood on the carpet, Draco panicked, and carelessly let the wand fall to the floor, rushing over to his father. "Dad?" he said softly, falling back into the old familiar name easily in his horror. He bent down, and listened hard, nearly having a heart attack from the joy he found at hearing his father breathing steadily.  
  
Lucius' was bleeding from various small cuts, and he was littered with bruises – he still had no shirt, and was shivering slightly. Draco removed his dressing gown and put it over the older Malfoy, taking hold of his left arm so that he could put it underneath the warm material as well. Some blood was welling up from a tiny wound in the crook of his elbow, and Draco squinted down at it, slightly confused. _What's this from?_ He tugged the dead weight of the arm towards him, and looked at the area around the wound.  
  
_...Oh my God... I have **got** to be imagining this..._ He ran a curious finger over the pockmarks in the skin, and then looked back at the scratches on his father's foot. _From glass...it must be then..._ Now that he knew there was no imminent danger from Death Eaters, he was able to worry about something else much more sinister. _Drugs...and he must have been drinking, otherwise why would he have that glass out?  
_  
Roughly, he grabbed onto the Malfoy patriarch, and rolled him over so that he could see his face – Lucius head lolled to the side, and his mouth was slightly open, small snores escaping him. Just as roughly, Draco took him by both shoulders, and tried to shake him awake. This action didn't seem to work very well, and he let go, rocking back on his haunches to try and think of something else. _If only I could do magic..._he cursed the ministry internally for their stupid rules, and looked at his unconscious father.  
  
_You'd better not die... I... I'll be bloody annoyed if you do!_ Despite his thoughts, he was worried. He'd seen Lucius like this before, but had been assured by bother parents that the drug taking had stopped...and yet...here it was again. _Idiot,_ Draco thought, nudging Lucius with his toe as he stood up, and stepped over him to sit in the chair. Looking down, he sighed, and pulled both his legs up onto the chair as well, waiting for his father to wake up.

* * *

For the rest of the Christmas holidays, Lucius refused to leave his chambers, and was unable to sleep for more than short bursts at a time. He'd often hear the ringing sounds of shouting coming through the long hallways of the manor, and at times imagined himself being brave enough to go out and see what was going on. However, he was a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor, so stupid bravado was not something he had in abundance.  
  
He took to keeping his doors locked, but soon discovered that this was a futile practice when magic could flick open the doors at a moment's notice. The...incidents...occurred only when his father was especially mad... So, whenever the shouts escalated to a particularly loud volume, Lucius would drag himself from his self-pitying heap on the bed, and pile furniture before the doors. _It never works though...  
_  
It was on one such occasion, when the shouts had ended in an abrupt explosion, that Lucius snapped. He started gathering together all of his school things, and grabbed his broomstick, kicking open the great bay windows in order to escape. The silence was an overbearing one, which suited the snowy scenery outside to a tee. However, it served to panic Lucius in a way that no temper tantrum of his father ever could. Silence was dangerous...  
  
He was just ready to straddle his broomstick when hands grabbed onto his shoulders, and yanked him back inside. He'd learnt that struggling did him little good, so immediately went limp in the grip on his shoulders. "Where do you think **you're** going, _boy_? I don't remember giving you permission to leave." Lucius didn't answer, and forced the tears that begged to spill to stay back. It was always worse when he cried. "Well Lucius?"  
  
"...Nowhere father..." he answered meekly.  
  
"'Nowhere'? You need a broomstick to get 'nowhere'? Don't be impertinent boy!" A fist connected expertly with his gut, and Lucius fell forwards so that he was bent over the freezing cold windowsill. "I'll show you nothing you little wretch!" Lance grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, and yanked his cloak of, using Lucius' own wounded throat to break the tie that held it in place.  
  
Then, Lance began to shake him, pulling him up from the sill and turning him around, slapping him as well. "Lucius – dad, get up..." The scene seemed to melt, and Lucius fell forwards into nothing, nausea running through him.

* * *

Draco had become bored of waiting after about half an hour, and with worry fuelling his actions, again shook Lucius, and even plied a slap on his face, remembering seeing Madame Pomfrey doing that to Quidditch players after they got ploughed. _Come on, wake up!_ "Dad, get up – come on, wake up!" He let go, startled when Lucius' eyes flickered open. He backed off, and watched as Lucius drew himself into a sitting position, his eyes unfocused, and shuddering even more violently than he had been before.  
  
"Dad?" Draco ventured, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lucius snapped his head around to look at him, pupils dilated to their full extent. It was obvious the older Malfoy didn't recognise his son at all... _Damnit._ Draco stood up and moved over to the cabinet next to the comfy chair, trying to find a beverage that wasn't alcoholic... The best he could come up with was 'tonic water', and he grabbed the glass from his father's desk before going back over to the quivering man.

He sat down and then carefully grabbed Lucius by the neck, forcing him to stay still. He immediately became rigid, and closed his eyes, fear evident on his face. _Weird... What's he afraid of?_ With one hand and his mouth, Draco unscrewed the lid of the bottle, and tipped some of the colourless liquid into the glass he'd bought over. Then, he took the glass, and tipped it up to Lucius' lips, hoping that he'd actually drink it.  
  
A few slops spilled across the carpet before his father seemed to understand he was supposed to drink it, and then he obligingly opened his mouth and swallowed down the whole glass of the stuff. When he wrinkled his nose and looked disgusted, Draco knew that he was coming around. _After all, tonic water** is** foul..._ He carefully put the glass back onto the floor, and waited for Lucius' eyes to focus again before letting go of him.  
  
"Draco?"

* * *

_I just got back from a concert in which all of the male artists were complete slash fodder. Hence, this new chapter suddenly appeared. [Dances] I **adore** Party in the Park concerts damnit! And Darren Hayes is a sex kitten. Meow! No mistake about it, he's my ultimate muse at the moment. Especially since he dyed his hair black again. [Swoons]. Heh...oops, meant to be talking about Malfoys and here I am rabbiting on about Darren. Ah well. If anyone hasn't heard of him, they should go look for him now! And his old band as well (Savage Garden), one of the best bands ever to come out of Australia. I am, of course, an old-school fan. Ah...the 2000 tour [nostalgic giggling as she remembers 'the adventures of Daz/ Elvis...']  
  
Right...anyway, after **that** fangirlish outburst... Ahem. My excuses for making Draco act as he acted. I thought it was sweet. [Grins sheepishly] It's a poor excuse, I know. But... I just always assumed that Draco and his father would have been quite close when he was younger, and it would only have been when Draco started Hogwarts, and Voldermort 'returned' as such, that Lucius would have had to start distancing himself from everybody once again. So...Draco, being a nostalgic drama-queen [laughs] would naturally remember the good old days...or something.  
  
My excuses are lame...  
  
Love canihavea-soda  
  
PS: Sorry this chapter was so short, and that it skipped around so much. I still haven't quite got the hang of continuous third person prose... _


	7. Infraction

**Infraction **

_Disclaimer: The only thing I can lay claim to are – the plot, the gratuitous sex scenes, the use of man-love and squicky things, and the really bad chapter titles. I'm struggling for the rhymes now O.o So I may give up after the next chapter. (Hot news – the next chapter will be entitled 'Inflection', which means an intonation or change in the voice. Odd, no?)_

_In the last chapter I wrote...urm...yes, that. And it was bad and jumped around a lot. Because it was **that**. And I had no idea what I was doing. For which I apologise... However, now, for your viewing pleasure, we get to see a disoriented Lucius (who is, as yet, still without a shirt), being comforted by Draco, the pyjama wearing and adorable little Malfoy. Hurrah!_

_Reason for starting to write chapter at such an early hour of the morning (it's about five am.) My cat hates me and brings in mice that are still alive, drops them on my head, and then expects me to thank it...stupid creature! It's also forecast to rain like mad today, so I can't go outside – hence the Malfoy boys are now being puppets to my will! [Evil laugh.]_

* * *

"Draco?" Lucius breathed, screwing his eyes up against the hazy world before him, to try and focus upon the only solid shape, which was indeed his son.

"Yeah, it's me," the boy answered easily, reaching out again to lay a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring manner. Lucius unsteadily reached up and grabbed onto it, savouring the few calm seconds of post-sleep bliss, along with the feeling of warm skin beneath his fingers. All to soon, however, things caught up with him, and he felt a wild panic on finding himself on the floor, shirtless, in his study, with Draco there. _Just like the dream... I..._

"Father – hey!" Draco shook him slightly, and Lucius looked up from where he had been studying the bottle of tonic water on the carpet. "You said you quit," Draco said coolly, pursing his lips in disapproval. Lucius, mind still muddled with drugs and alcohol, furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out just what the boy meant.

"I...what do you...what?" he murmured, shuffling backwards and away from Draco, seeking the safety of the overstuffed chair behind him.

"The drugs, father. The drink too – you said you'd stopped, but obviously that was just another of your lies!" the younger Malfoy's cheeks gained a slight tinge of pink, and Draco stood up. "I bought your wand back for you," he told his shivering father as he walked through the door. He stopped just outside the threshold, and turned around. "It's not the fact that you still do these things that pisses me off dad... It's the fact that you lie about it."

With that final, bold statement hovering in the otherwise still air, Lucius was left alone. He leant heavily upon the chair, tipping his head back so that it rested upon the seat cushion. _Bravo, you idiot, _he thought, massaging his temples with his fingertips. Draco's dressing gown, which had still been partially covering him, now slid off completely, exposing him to the cool late-afternoon air. He grabbed onto the soft velvet, and pulled it up to his chin, savouring the warmth it provided.

_It smells like daisies...just like the flowers he used to get from that old toy..._he thought, smiling slightly and wrapping the material around his shoulders, before again leaning back on the chair. He closed his eyes, and sank into the soft cushioning...

_**Do you think he'd smell like daisies, hrm?**_

_...what?_

**_You know there's only one way to find out. But, of course, we've already established you're not man enough to do anything._**

_Shut up... I'm not going to be like my father. No one deserves that, him least of all!_

_**But what about you? Don't you deserve something?**_

Lucius opened his eyes and shook his head, trying to shake the hissing, calculating thoughts away. _I think I'm going mad! _He looked around the room to try and find someone else there, someone who could have been saying those things. But, there was no one. _I am going fucking mad... _

The clock on the mantle above the fire told him that it was already five o'clock. _Which means Narcissa will be home any minute now... _He groaned, and shakily picked himself up off the floor.

That task done, he wobbled along on shaky feet into his bedroom, grabbing the dress shirt and black trousers he had earlier discarded. Gracelessly, he sank down onto the edge of the bed, and started pulling off the trousers he had magicked up to fly like an idiot through the rain in. He didn't even manage to get them halfway off before there was a timid knock on his door. "What?" he called out sharply, yanking the material off with impatient hands.

"Mistress Narcissa is home sir," a timid voice answered. "She has bought guests."

"Very good," he called back, listening as the house elf pattered away down the hall. _Now that's a sound I used to hear a lot back then... _The dream had succeeded in refreshing his memory, and he now found it quite a struggle to relieve himself of the terrible images plaguing his mind. _She was only property to him. Just a woman. As I was just 'the boy'... _Face set in the usual grim serenity, he hurriedly donned his clothes, and went over to the mirror to check his appearance.

_I look terrible. _Lucius stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the pallid skin which showed up every single bruise and cut like blood against snow. He looked as nauseous as he felt, and reached out to grab his wand from the dressing table in order to cast a glamour charm. _After all, that stupid wife of mine just **had** to bring guests home, today of all days! _But, his fingers closed around thin air. "Where is it?" he questioned aloud, looking down at the spot where his wand should have been.

_Hang on, Draco said something about my wand... _He hobbled back into the study, his cut foot throbbing painfully with each step. He reached the door, and immediately caught sight of his wand lying upon the thick carpet just inside the entrance. Gratefully, he scooped it up, and hurried back to the mirror, in order to cast the spell before the _woman_ came up to get him. No doubt she'd found a few of the richest people she could find together for a nice 'intimate' dinner, which she would follow by choosing a pretty, rich playboy to spend the night with.

_Same old, same old. _Lucius raised the wand above his head, and whispered, "Alterum commutatus." A shower of fine silver sparkles rained down from the tip of his wand, seeking out all the cuts and bruises and covering them up, before then adding a healthy glow to his whole self. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch as his mask was re-made, and turned away from the mirror, lowering his wand as he did so. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself looking at the old shirt and jeans he had discovered earlier, lying in a heap on the floor, along with the self-shuffling cards.

He pointed his wand at the items, and magically pushed them beneath his bed, to join many other things he would rather his wife never see. Then, with the last scrap of self-control he had left, he ducked back into view of the mirror, to ensure that his hated façade was back in place. When he saw that it was, he put on his most charming smile, and shoved his wand through his belt, awaiting the arrival of the blonde vision that was his terrible wife.

After a few minutes, he wondered whether she might have skipped the dinner altogether, and decided to go and see what 'guests' she had bought home for himself. So, after another last glance in the mirror, he grabbed his usual dress robes, and threw them on over his clothes, leaving the things unbuttoned, so as to look fashionably 'casual'. This done, he left his chambers, closing the doors behind him, and started down towards the entrance hall.

* * *

Draco stormed from his father's chambers, muttering swear words and curses as he went. _How **dare** he lie to me! That no-good – I can't believe he'd – eurgh! _He shook his head violently, and almost tripped over a house elf that had just emerged from one of the many servant-passages in the manor. "Sorry," he said without thinking, righting himself and carrying on.

"Master Malfoy," the house elf quickly turned on its heel and politely awaited permission to speak.

"What is it?" Draco asked, having to force himself not to take his anger out on the faultless servant.

"Mistress Narcissa is home sir – she requests that you go down in a few minutes to greet her guests."

"I see – thank you elf," Draco nodded stiffly, before continuing on his march back to his own rooms. The temptation to turn up downstairs in his pyjamas was amusing, but he didn't really fancy the idea of his father shouting at him for such an act. _Besides, I'd probably end up shouting right back, and God only knows what could happen! _He always made it a point never to make Lucius angry, ever since he'd been able to understand what being a death eater actually meant.

He hurried across the upper landing, catching glimpses of finely attired people, most of whom he had seen before at some function or other. Thankfully, they were all so occupied with their own discussions that they didn't notice him scampering above their heads in nightclothes. His mother was nowhere in sight, and he wondered where she was, and why she'd left her guests alone. _After all, that is, apparently, bad etiquette. _

Not really caring to figure out how his mother worked, and too annoyed with his father to even think about him, Draco's mind fell upon a delicate subject. _Some of those people down there are bound to be death eaters... What if this is it? _He thought back to the radio-report from earlier, which had shown him how much more active the Dark Lord and his followers were becoming. _Maybe they need new blood. New, **Malfoy **blood!_

He hurried through the open doors into his room, and then speedily threw them shut behind himself. He walked over to his wardrobe, and took out some dress clothes (being black trousers and a green shirt with real silver buttons). Then, he went over to his school trunk, and rummaged around until he found his own wand, put into its wooden box for safekeeping. In order to comfort himself, he twirled it in his fingers, and assumed the normal duelling position, one hand out before him, and the one holding the wand curled up above his head.

After that, he dropped his hands, and started to climb into his stiff formal wear, putting the wand into his right pocket, and then leaving the shirt un-tucked in order to cover the protruding tip of the weapon. Luckily, the style was in fashion, so Narcissa wasn't likely to question him as to why his shirt wasn't tucked in.

These actions completed, the Malfoy heir took a few moments to sit in the chair before his desk, and take stock of the situation. _If it comes down to it, and I have to fight, I probably won't win. But I'll be damned if I don't at least take some of them with me. _Despite his obnoxious and sometimes downright rude behaviour towards muggles and mud-bloods, he had no real problems with them. And the idea of killing them because they had 'dirty blood' just reminded him of the ideas of ethnic cleansing put forward by hundreds of leaders in both muggle and wizard history.

Draco pulled one of the many textbooks on the desk towards himself, and opened it. Instead of pages covered in writing, the book contained only blank pages, each of them with a large hole in the centre, which formed the perfect hiding place for certain things Draco wished to keep private. He reached into it, and took out a small statuette made out of bronze, which showed a phoenix about to take flight. On the small pedestal the magical bird was sitting on, were carved the words, 'The Order'.

_I guess father isn't the only one with embarrassing secrets... _Draco quickly put the small metal object back into the hollow book, and replaced it underneath his many textbooks. _If the worst comes to the worst, then I could always try and Parlus Dumbledore. _He hoped that he didn't have to. He'd never live it down at school if it was found out he didn't support You-Know-Who; he was willing to bet he wouldn't last more than a couple of weeks back in Slytherin house...

_I'd better get going. _He heaved himself wearily from the chair, once again finding himself wishing that he were more like the Weasel. _At least then my family might be slightly more normal. _He checked to make sure that his wand was hidden, and then exited his chambers, walking through the hallways that echoed with eerily cold laughter from his mother's guests in the entrance hall.

Just as he turned the corner onto the main landing, he bumped into someone coming in the other direction. As he was still weak from the earlier events of the day, he managed to topple over backwards, and groaned as his head hit the floor. "Why don't you watch where you're going?" he snapped, sitting up and rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. Looking up, he froze as he met the cool black eyes of his potions-master.

"I believe you should be the one watching where _you_ are going, Mister Malfoy." Severus extended a long tapered hand, and Draco bashfully accepted the help to get back onto his feet.

"Sorry professor, I was just in a hurry to-" he began, whilst mentally yelling something along the lines of, _I cannot believe I just snapped at a professor. Crap, bugger, shit. I'm so glad I'm not in school right now. _

"Calm down, Draco, you're not in school. Just...try to be a little more careful, hrm?"

"Yes professor," Draco answered, falling back on the usual teenage ploy of sounding as disinterested as possible.

"Is your father about, by any chance?" Severus asked, seeming to take great interest in something on the floor. Draco followed his gaze, and his heart almost stopped when he saw that his wand was lying on the floor just by the black-haired man's foot.

"Urm – yeah. He- he's in his study I think. Do you want me to show you?"

"No, that's all right, I know the way. Thank you Draco." Just before he went, he bent down and picked up the wand. "I believe this is yours. I won't ask you why you're carrying it around, but I trust that you don't plan on using it," he rose an eyebrow as he handed Draco's wand back to him.

"Of course not!" Draco assured him, taking the wand and stuffing it back into his pocket. Severus just nodded, and then headed off down the corridor. As Draco watched him stride off, he added, under his breath, "Not unless I have to."

* * *

Severus heard Draco's addition, years of teaching having honed his hearing very well. He didn't turn around, and instead smiled slightly at his student's attitude. _At least you seem to have the right idea, young man. _It was a pity the same couldn't be said for Lucius – he was slowly killing himself trying to live up to man he had once been. _Strange to think we both used to believe what we were doing was the right thing. Ah well, c'est la vie. _

He hurried through the manor, as always finding the cavernous hallways overbearing and even a little frightening. True, Hogwarts was a lot larger, and had hallways very similar to this place – but Hogwarts was rarely, if ever, quiet. Whereas these hallways had always held a timely silence akin to a library, or a – he shuddered slightly as he thought of it – a morgue. All of the portraits on the walls on either side of him looked snootily down, not one of them sparing him a smile. They never moved from their own paintings, as the subjects in Hogwarts did, content to stay still and look as incredibly rich as they could possibly manage.

_No wonder Lucius keeps these out of the way up here... _Severus thought, shivering again as a particularly cool pair of eyes followed him up the short flight of steps that led to the last few corridors before Lucius' chambers. He turned around to confront the grey-eyed man, scowling as he always did at the sight of the now deceased Malfoy. _You made him turn – he only did it to escape, and now... _The sound of footsteps hurrying towards him cut his thoughts off, and he glanced up to see the very person he'd been seeking, walking down the hallway towards him.

"Lucius," he hailed the blond, waiting for the Malfoy to reach him. He looked as handsome as ever, and Severus had to contain his desire to kiss the man then and there. Lucius didn't look him in the eye, but then, he rarely did. "Narcissa invited me back – I said I'd come and collect you," he explained, the perpetual shyness that he always felt around Lucius making his voice higher than normal.

"Right," Lucius said distantly, also looking quickly up at the portrait of his father, before looking down again, trying to suppress a heavy shudder.

"Luc?" Severus reached out a hand, but then drew it back, as always wary about his actions. He didn't want to push Lucius away, and he knew if he pried too deeply, Lucius wouldn't like it. The Malfoy only ever gave Severus' answers by his own violation; asking for them was out of the question. He took a deep breath, and reached out again to gently brush the silk clad arm of the angelic demon before him. "Are you all right?" _Perhaps I'm pushing my luck, but I know a glamour charm when I see one..._

The Malfoy patriarch looked directly at him, taking him by surprise, and he stumbled backwards on the steps, nearly managing to fall down the whole lot of them. Luckily, Lucius reached out and grabbed the front of his robes before he could, and then crushed himself against the stunned potions-master. "Don't make me go down there," he whispered imploringly into Severus' ear. "I don't want to – not today."

Severus didn't know what to think, and just held onto the other, content just to be close. "I won't make you – nobody will," he assured him, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Shall I go back and tell them that you're unwell?" Lucius' grip on him suddenly tightened, and he winced as the blond pulled on the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Don't go."

"...I must...or there'll be talk." For once, he found himself having to prise Lucius' hands from the back of his neck and his shoulder, carefully helping his lover sit down on the steps. He sat down next to him, and then threw an arm over his shoulder. "I'll be right back...I'll say I need to be back at the school, and then I'll come back here. How does that sound?"

"Please...just don't leave me alone," Lucius begged, his voice little more than a whisper. Severus turned to place a comforting kiss on his forehead, but stopped when he found tears rolling down Lucius' cheeks. _Christ, what's happened? _He wondered, momentarily squeezing the Malfoy, before rising from the floor, and worriedly walking away. _I'll be right back – don't worry. _Lance Malfoy watched the Snape boy go with disapproving eyes, and then looked in disgust at his son, whose glamour charm fell from him as he lay upon the steps and stared into nothingness.

* * *

Draco hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, unsure about what he should do. He'd never really taken to mixing with all these people, and it wasn't like there was anybody his own age around. So when his mother appeared, he discovered a strange sensation indeed. He was actually pleased to see her. _Wow, this should be recorded, because it's definitely a first! _He thought sarcastically as Narcissa placed air-kisses on both of his cheeks. "Darling, that shirt looks wonderful on you!" she exclaimed, tweaking the collar of it slightly.

"Thank you mother – are those new dress robes?" _Why do I still ask? They're **always** new dress robes!_

"Why, yes actually, they are!" Narcissa smiled, picking up the floor length skirt of black satin delicately between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. "Nice, aren't they?"

"Very," Draco answered, already wanting to go back upstairs to his room. His mother grabbed his hand, and they plunged into the centre of the twenty-strong crowd, various people looking at him as though he were an animal in the zoo. He just ignored the stares, and stayed quiet, nodding and laughing at the appropriate places in the conversation. When people directed questions at him, he answered as graciously as he could, glad that he at least knew how to converse with these people. _And that's about the only bonus I can see to shopping trips with mother. _

"So, Draco, have you given any though to what you want to do when you've finished school?" Draco's heart sped at this question, as he knew the speaker was most definitely a death eater.

"Well, Mr. Crabbe, I can't say I've thought much about it yet. Hopefully something terribly lucrative and terribly easy," he answered, dodging the obvious trap – most of the circle tittered and laughed, and his mother waved her hand and chuckled,

"Looks like he's going to take after his father after all then!"

"Indeed," Crabbe murmured, just loud enough so that Draco could hear. He just smiled pleasantly at the man, and then turned to engage in a conversation about quidditch with a few of the younger men. He noticed his mother was paying special attention to one of them, and felt his blood boil when the man returned her affections with a lingering hand around her waist. However, he was so used to it that he didn't say anything, instead indulging in talking about the 'safe' topic.

The conversations lulled, and he looked around to see what had caused the sudden quiet. All he saw was his potions-master walking down the stairs, and shrugged it off, turning around to contest someone on the subject of the Nimbus/Firebolt competition standards. He heard Snape come over, and moved out of the way so that he could talk to Narcissa.

"I'm afraid Lucius isn't feeling very well," he told her in a low voice. "He sends his apologies, but he doesn't wish to make anyone else ill, so he'll stay in his rooms this evening."

"Oh dear... Oh well, I suppose we shall just have to make do without him. Would you care for a drink at all?"

"I'm afraid I can't – I too have to make my apologies, but I need to get back to the school before Dumbledore misses me."

"Oh, come now Severus, surely he'll allow you a night off in the holidays!"

"That as it may be, I would rather not stir suspicions," he said.

"Well, in that case, you'll need an escort to your carriage," she ignored Severus' protests, and turned around to see Draco standing behind her, trying to remain inconspicuous. "Ah, Draco darling, would you mind?" He internally cursed, but just smiled, and shrugged,

"No, that's fine. Professor?" Severus looked at him, and then smiled as well.

"All right, I'll accept an escort – lead the way Draco." Draco did just that, glad to plough his way through the people and get out on the other side. He turned left, and led Severus down the side corridor which led to the coach station for all the carriages in and out of the manor grounds. It was traditional for visitors to leave the grounds before apparition, in order to emulate the Hogwarts manner. But, as soon as they were out of earshot of the party, Severus grabbed his pupil's arm and pulled the both of them to a complete stop.

"You don't need to get back to school at all, do you?" Draco asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "What are you really doing?"

"That's none of your concern – however, I would suggest that you go upstairs to your father's chambers right away."

"What – why?"

Severus looked around the dimly lit hallway with furtive eyes. "I can't tell you here, but you'll understand when you go and see him. He needs you to help him." With that, Severus brushed past Draco, and carried on down the hall.

"What about you? Are you just abandoning him then?" Draco called, slumping against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were supposed to be his friend, but you're walking away." Now that he'd started to let his bottled up anger out, it seemed as though there was no stopping it. And, he didn't really care either; his recklessness was thrilling.

* * *

Severus repressed the urge to turn around and pin the boy to the wall by his throat. He hunched his shoulders, and gritted his teeth to prevent himself from shouting. "I would suggest that you go to your father now, Draco. And you'd better not be so impertinent when I next see you." _Which will be sooner than you think. _When the Malfoy heir didn't answer, he continued on down the hallway, and walked over to the coach at the front of the line.

"Hey – hey!" he tapped on the side of the door, and the snoozing coachman snapped awake. "If I give you this, will you tell whoever asks that you gave me a ride from the grounds tonight," he extended a hand and dropped two Galleons into the upturned palm of the driver.

"Yes sir, of course!" the man doffed his hat, and looked down at the two coins, most likely blessing his luck. Severus just snorted, and then retreated back into the hallway (after checking that Draco had indeed vacated it). From here, it was an easy manner to apparate into Lucius' study, and then hurry out of his chambers in order to get back to where he'd left him. He broke into a slow jog, feet thundering against the floor, the sound echoing terribly in the high-ceilinged halls.

Finally, he entered the hallway where he'd left the Malfoy man, and stopped dead in his tracks, meeting the level gaze of a pupil who'd just moved very quickly indeed. The boy blinked, obviously confused, and bent down next to his father, who was lying prone on the floor, shivering. "Dad?" the boy tried, sitting down next to him and prodding him on the shoulder. Lucius didn't answer, instead continuing to stare blankly ahead.

Severus slowly walked over, and then descended the steps so that he could sit in front of Lucius, and look him in the eye. "Luc? It's me Luc." Draco obligingly shuffled sideways so that Severus could sit next to the Malfoy patriarch. He did so, and then lifted Lucius' head onto his lap, brushing the messy hair away from his pale face. "I told them you wouldn't be coming down."

"Father? Are you all right?" Draco leant across his professor, worry for Lucius leaving no room for embarrassment.

"Do you know if anything could have caused this?" Severus asked, soothingly stroking Lucius' hair as he asked Draco the question. He was surprised to see his student scowl, and sit back, yet again crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," he answered coolly.

"Alas, unlike Professor Trelawney, I don't claim to have the power of the sight, so could you enlighten me?" Severus hissed, nudging the boy in the side with his elbow.

"Fine, you want to know? Let's go for this shall we? Drinking excessive amounts. Taking drugs. Pretending that he's stopped doing both and lying to me. That sounds about right," the boy spat the last two sentences out bitterly, and again, Severus was shocked. Not because of the drink and drugs, that had been a part of his own life for a long time after all... But because of the hurt in his student's voice. He'd never really thought of Draco as the type to care so much for his father – but perhaps that was just because of the way Lucius had felt about Lance...

"Ah... I see..." he said. "I believe we'd better move out of this corridor, don't you?" Draco just nodded silently, standing up and going around to take up his father's legs. "No, don't worry, I'll do it." Severus shuffled away, allowing Lucius' head to drop gently onto the floor. Then, he reached down and threaded one arm underneath his bony shoulders, and then put his other arm underneath Lucius' knees. After that, it was an easy matter to hoist him from the floor, as Lucius had always been on the light side.

Draco stayed still, watching as Severus started off in the general direction of Lucius' chambers. Severus stopped, and looked over his shoulder at the boy. "Well?" Draco jumped, and the followed his teacher, casting worried glances at his father every so often, noting the way he clung onto the front of Severus' robes. _Huh, seems like Blaise was right after all – Snape's gay... _He stored this information in the back of his mind, to make connections with later.

For now, he put all his attention back on his father. _As annoying as he may be, I'm still worried. _

* * *

_Fairdeviln1 (gosh, I talk to you a lot in these things...), I'd love to give you a clue about the plot...but as I still haven't decided what's going to happen yet, I can't. O.o It's the truth! There's about six or seven scenarios that I can foresee, all of them being plot ideas that I like...and I've yet to choose one._

_As for the rest of you poor things that have forced yourselves to read this rubbish, I hug you! Gabo0, labpotter, Draco Malfoy-Potter (if this were to occur in the books, I would most likely die happy...yum...man-love), umi n secylia and JeanettePeredhil (no, you're right, the last chapter jumped around a bit too much!) Without you lot, it's likely this thing would have died out pretty quickly, and even though I know I'm terrible at updates and I leave loads of time between them, I hope you can put up with that and that you'll like whichever blasted plot I finally choose!_

_Hugs for all, and isn't man-love nice?_

_Soda _

_PS: Spells used are made-up nonsense, based on Latin words._

_PPS: This chapter was...odd...to say the least. I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking. Blame it on the rain._


	8. Inflection

**Inflection **

_Disclaimer: I own Lucius' bedspread. That is all. And I'm quite content with that. [Wraps said object around herself and sighs contentedly.]_

_I think the phrase I'm looking for is 'whoa'. This fic has broken through the 3500-view mark. And that's just – just wow. [Feels special.] I really just want to spend the next few minutes gushing about this, but I won't. Just want to say a huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed, because it's appreciated very much indeed! [Grin.] So, to recap, in the last chapter, I actually had no idea what I was going to do, and then I decided 'hey, let's see what happens when we put a crying and tormented Lucius, sexy but confused Severus and annoyed Draco all in a bedroom.' Naturally, this idea appealed to me. The only problem is...what am I going to do with them now?_

_The only way for you all to find out is to read it. [Giggles.] Man, I'm going to have so much fun..._

_**Warning: **Angst ahoy!_

* * *

Draco sat on the futon at the end of his father's bed, for the first time noticing just how frail his father truly looked. _All those glamour charms, one on top of the other... How could I have missed them? _He answered his own question almost immediately, with an odd sort of pride at the thought. _It's because he's too good – too quick and too clever for me to have figured it out... If only he was clever enough with other things... _Draco sighed, and looked up as his potions-master came into the bedroom from the study, with the glass and bottle of tonic water that Draco had informed him were there.

Severus nodded at his student, "You were right, he took a little 'Beatatis Immortalitus'. And, considering that decanter was obviously full before he started on it, I'd say the only thing to do is wait. He'll still be hallucinating, but it won't have any adverse effect in the long run."

"Are you speaking from experience sir?" Draco asked quietly, looking up to meet the chocolate eyes of his Professor. He was stunned when a slight red blush graced the sallow man's cheeks.

"Alas, I'm afraid I am," he nodded, kneeling down on the floor next to Lucius', and putting the back of his hand to the Malfoy man's forehead. He frowned, and then leant forward in order to lift up Lucius' head. "Could you fill up that glass for me?" he muttered to Draco, who had been watching all of this. The boy started, and tore his eyes away from his prone father, hurrying over to the side table next to Severus to get the bottle and glass. Then, with jerky, yet amazingly precise movements, Draco poured some of the vile liquid into the fine crystal glass, and gave it to Severus.

"Thank you," the raven-haired man nodded, accepting it gratefully. Then, he returned his attention to the Malfoy patriarch, whose brow was furrowed and covered in a sheen of sweat. "Alright Luc, drink this," he commanded softly, raising the glass to the other's lips. Obediently, he opened his mouth, and through natural reflex, swallowed the first mouthful. Then, he spluttered, and frowned deeply, opening his azure eyes to display great displeasure.

"Why do people keep insisting on giving me this vile stuff?" he exploded, breaking loose of Severus' grip, and knocking the glass from his hand. Draco dove in order to catch it, and managed to save the expensive trinket from shattering on the floor. However, his trajectory then led him to knock over his potions master, and land in an undignified heap on the floor. Lucius sat up, and looked down at the two of them quizzically. "What's going on?" It was quite obvious that the drug's effect had now worn off, and his indignation shone through brightly when he found his son lying atop his lover!

Draco blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened...when the floor beneath him suddenly heaved, he scuffled backwards and fell heavily onto his backside, still clutching the glass he had just saved. He looked around to see his father now looking vaguely amused by something behind him, and wondered what was so funny. When he turned around, he understood...

In the tumble the two of them had just taken, Severus had managed to clonk his head against the side table, inducing the still-open bottle of tonic water to fall over and empty it's contents all over his head. He sat up, and swept his sopping jet hair out of his face, looking quite sour. Lucius laughed, startling Draco, who looked back at his father once more. Severus just let out an exasperated sigh, and shuffled back towards the bed, sending a reproachful look in Draco's direction.

"So...would anyone care to explain this to me?" Lucius asked, his eyes following the potions-master, whose robes were becoming sodden with drips from his hair. And, the wetter they became, the more they hugged his form...

"Father, to be frank, I think I deserve an explanation more than you do," Draco interjected, serious once more. He leant on the edge of the bed, putting his chin on his arms, and looking up at Lucius imploringly. His father, finally seeming to realise the proximity of his son, looked down at him with a genuinely fond smile.

* * *

"Sev."

"Yes?"

"Think you could go into my study and get me the penseive."

"...Where is it?"

"Third drawer down in my desk – the key is in the box on the windowsill."

"Of course – be right back." Severus got to his feet, and hurried out of the room, perhaps sensing that Lucius would like some time alone with his son. Lucius sat up completely, and then, after a second of interior battle, patted the mattress next to him, inviting Draco to sit. _It's about time I explained a few things to him after all... I think he's old enough to know. At least, I hope he is..._

_**He's old enough for other things as well...**_

_Shut the fuck up. _

"Father?" Draco prompted, settling lightly on the edge of the bed and looking up at him curiously. Lucius looked at him, taking in his wide grey eyes, filled with worry, and his lined forehead, conveying his dying anger.

"Draco... This is...difficult. I truly don't know where to begin... I... There..." He stopped, and smiled wanly. "I'm not being particularly eloquent, am I?"

"No, not particularly," Draco agreed, a tentative smile gracing his features. It didn't last long though, and his face became serious once more. "I just – I want to know – why you... What made you need to- Oh, bugger it, I'm not doing much better!" he laughed in an exasperated manner, and reached up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. Lucius politely waited for him to continue. "What I'm trying to say – and I'm making a poor job of it too – is why do you do it? The drink and the drugs I mean? It's dangerous!"

Lucius sighed heavily, and caught in the heat of the moment, placed his hand over the one Draco was using to steady himself upon the mattress. "Before I begin, you must understand Draco, that there are many things that can drive people to do wrong. Salazar Slytherin, for example, saw his whole family burnt at the stake by muggles for being of the magical kind; he then went on to try and oust all those of mixed blood from Hogwarts. The Dark Lord knew that his father abandoned his mother when he found out she was a witch, and she then died, leaving him an orphan. That is why he began his campaign..." Lucius looked up at the open window, and Draco stared at his pale face, stunned by the information he was being given.

"And I... I too have reasons for what I have done," Lucius again caught those grey eyes, falling into them and becoming a little lost. He sniffed when he found tears congregating under his eyelids, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut to make them go away. "It's hard, because sometimes I fear I'll make the same terrible misdemeanours as _he_ did. And I never want to do that, because I'd never wish to hurt you." A sob overtook his composed shell, and he was again reduced to the broken mess that had earlier begged Severus to stay with him.

_Get a hold of yourself! He deserves to know, and don't you deserve to finally unload this burden once and for all?_

**_What, and warn the boy? Come now, you can still do a memory charm on him and your whore, and then he'll be none the wiser when you-_**

_Shut up! Get the fuck out of my head! I won't. I **won't, **do you hear me?_ He froze in terror when the mattress rose again, signifying that Draco had raised himself from the bed. _He's going to leave – but he can't, I haven't told him yet. He needs to know abou-_ His thoughts abruptly halted when a pair of arms circled gently around his neck, and he opened his eyes to find Draco leaning down and hugging him, whispering soothing sounds and shushing him. Lucius realised that he hadn't managed to stem his tears, and had, in fact, been crying before his son.

"Shh, it's all right," Draco murmured, patting him gently on the back. "Just let it out, shh...it's fine now..." Lucius slowly raised his own arms and returned the hug, smiling at the simple comfort it gave him. The hissing voice in his head started to speak, but he managed to flip it off before it succeeded in annoying him further. So, he just enjoyed the embrace, his sobs quieting until they no longer existed. "Better?" Draco asked.

"Much. Thank you," Lucius answered, rather stiffly, as he wasn't sure how one was supposed to deal with these situations. Draco gave him one last squeeze, and the stood up straight again, looking down at him.

"Where do you reckon Professor Snape got to?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to see the doorway still empty. Lucius blinked. _Professor Sn-? OH! Sev._ He could almost have laughed aloud at his own confusement, but instead just shook his head at his son,

"I don't know... Surely it isn't that difficult to open a drawer..." There was a sudden thud from the study, and father and son looked at one another perplexed. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted freely. "Shall I take a look?"

"Hang on, I'll come with you," Lucius said firmly, heaving himself from the bed, and managing to control his 'coming-down' shakes well enough that Draco didn't seem to notice them. He took his wand from his pocket, and went ahead of his son, once more ignoring the dark voice, which was suggesting this would be the perfect opportunity to mimic his father's use of the Imperius curse. He clutched tightly onto the wooden baton, and upon reaching the study door (slightly ajar) stopped, signalling Draco to await him there.

He gently pushed open the door, this time delighted to see that Severus had had enough sense to light the candles when he entered. _Why didn't I think of that?_ He wondered briefly, looking back to make sure that Draco was staying like he had been told to. Draco looked at him, biting his lip nervously, and Lucius forced a reassuring smile. Then, he looked back into the room. _Where is he?_ The penseive was lying on the desk, tendrils of silvery memories trailing over the edge and then dissipating into nothingness.

Severus was nowhere to be seen... "Father? Is everything all right?" Draco called.

"Fine. Just stay there," Lucius called back, advancing into the room, both ears and eyes open in case this was some sort of trick. _It could even be that fool Pettigrew, running errands for his Lordship..._ Though, Lucius doubted that Pettigrew would have been able to think of something quite so advanced as attacking Severus to draw him in here. _What would his lordship even want? I sent him the papers days early..._

A strangled gasp reached his ears, and he caught sight of a pair of legs sticking out from behind the desk. He hurried over, and pointed his wand down at whoever it was lying prone on the floor. What he saw made him drop his wand altogether, and he backed away, pressing himself against the drinks cabinet and staring in horror.

Severus Snape was lying full length on the floor, a cut on his forehead trickling blood. And, sitting astride him was...he couldn't believe his eyes.

James Potter.

And...the Gryffindor was...Lucius shook his head to try and somehow right the image, but he could not. The Gryffindor was but sixteen or seventeen, and smiling down at Severus with a predatory grin. "Fancy seeing you here," the apparition smirked, trailing a finger down Severus' stunned face, and then leaning down for a claiming kiss.

"What the fuck?" Lucius finally found his voice, and scooped up his wand as James Potter looked around at him. The Gryffindor relinquished the hold he had on the front of Severus' robes and stood up, walking towards Lucius. As he approached, he seemed to change, becoming taller and broader, and his brown eyes softened to a misty grey, black spiky hair lengthening into brown ringlets. Lucius pressed himself harder against the cabinet, unable to move, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He was unable to breath, and let out a terrified yelp as his father _(no, you're dead...)_ reached out for him.

"Grandfather?" Lance paused, looking around and spying Draco standing in the doorway, his wand lazily dangling in his right hand. "Father, what's-?" There was a pop, and Lance disappeared. Lucius looked around, and saw a small white ferret making a beeline for Draco. His son squealed in a rather girlish manner, and ran backwards away from the small mammal.

"Riddikulus!" Severus yelled commandingly, and the ferret disappeared altogether with another pop. Draco stopped, flushing deep crimson when he realised what a sight he must have been, fleeing from the rodent like a young schoolgirl. Ferrets just...eurgh...bad memories. Severus dashed over to Lucius, who was looking at the spot where Lance had been standing not ten seconds before. "Luc... Luc, it was only a boggart! Luc!" he fell upon his last resort, and administered an open-palmed slap to the Malfoy's face.

"Ow!" he cried, coming to, and reaching up a hand to the sore are of his cheek.

"Sorry, but you seemed a little lost to the world," Severus said, apologetically patting him on the shoulder. Lucius stared at him.

"James Potter?"

"What?"

"He's your boggart... I never realised it was that...bad..." he trailed off, realising that Draco was in the room with them. He looked over to the door to see Draco leaning heavily against the doorframe, studying his shoes with great interest, and still blushing deeply. _A ferret? Now that's something I didn't expect..._ He looked back at Severus, who had also taken to studying his shoes. "Hey," he whispered, catching the potions-master's chin, "why didn't you tell me?"

"You had enough to deal with," Severus answered stoutly, nodding to the penseive on the table as if to back himself up. Lucius just sighed, and stood up straight. "Are you still sure you want to tell him?"

"If I don't know, I'm not sure I ever will," Lucius answered, wearily picking up the penseive, which was heavy with memories. _It's surprising how much can happen to you in less than forty years..._ "Draco."

"Y-yes father?" Draco asked tremulously, seemingly still shaken by the boggart.

"Go back into the other room. I'll be out in just a second."

"Of course." Draco left the room, leaving Severus and Lucius alone, to contemplate their painful memories, and timeless fears.

"How many times?"

"What?"

"How many times did he come to you after...?"

"After the astronomy tower, do you mean?" Severus sank into the chair behind the desk, and Lucius peered into his memories. "Six, maybe seven. I didn't do much to stop it... I still cared for him, even after all...that. But, he had his Lily, and I had...well, anyway, better go enlighten your son, eh?" Severus feigned jollity, and made to stand up, but Lucius stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Who did you have?" Lucius asked waveringly, though he feared he knew what the answer was going to be.

"You... But, I was young, presumptuous. I should have realised a Malfoy could never-" Lucius raised a hand, and he stopped talking.

"Had I but known..." Lucius sighed deeply. "Sev, I... I feel terrible. It's been so many years, and I have been unkind and cruel to you, and yet... You still haven't left me. Despite my awful temper and my carelessness, you still love me, don't you?" Severus turned away, and refused to meet his eye. _Fuck, why couldn't you have just said 'no'? I... I'm **evil... **I **am** my father after all..._

"I..." Severus gulped, and Lucius was surprised that he was going to deign to even answer the question. "I – despite all sensibilities...yes." He looked up at Lucius with defiance, as though daring him to contend the matter.

"Oh," Lucius sighed hopelessly. "Sev, I... I just wish... If things had been different, then maybe I-"

"Shh," the raven-haired man reached up a single finger, and placed it upon his lips, silencing him. "I'm not asking for your love. This... This is enough." With that, he stood up, and left the study, going to join the waiting Draco. Lucius let out the breath he had been holding, feeling deflated and useless. _But, there are still things that need to be done. So get in there and finish what you started!_

* * *

Draco looked up at Severus as he walked in, taking note of the dejected slouch of his posture. He watched as Severus sank down slowly into the chair by his father's dressing table, sitting sideways so that he could lean his right arm upon the back, and then place his head upon his arm, lazily looking at the door into the study. _I wonder what that was about? He doesn't seem very happy at all!_

Following the dark-haired man's lead, he too stared at the door, waiting for his father to come out, explanation in tow.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but was, in reality, a nail-biting couple of minutes), Lucius wondered out from the study, penseive cradled carefully in both arms. He was looking down at it with a smile on his face, and Draco was able to catch some of the father he'd known a long time ago. The father from before Hogwarts...before the drugs and the drink and all the pain caught up with him.

_I wish it could be like it was again... He used to smile all the time, and we'd play games, and he was happy!_ Draco sighed, and slipped off of the futon to go over to the coffee table where Lucius had set the penseive down. There was a large sofa and a chair, all in the same black leather, and his father sank into the chair, angling the penseive towards him. Draco took a seat on the end of the sofa nearest to his father, and tried to see what memories he was to be shown. But, it was impossible to see anything from where he sat, so he impatiently waited...

* * *

Severus remained where he was, as he had already seen these memories before... He had even witnessed some of them first hand... As such, he didn't really wish to see any of them again. Instead, he studied his lover's face, now knitted in concentration as he obviously sought out the memories that he needed to show the boy. Glancing at his student, he saw that he too had a look of great concentration, focused on his father. _Perhaps he's trying to figure things out for himself... I just hope he isn't so scarred by the other Slytherins that he could come up with something even close to the truth..._

Finally, Lucius seemed to find what he was looking for, and he tapped his wand on the side of the penseive in order to 'hold onto' the set of memories. Then, he leant forward to engage Draco in one of the most difficult conversations he had ever had to go through in his life. Severus watched, ready to rush to comfort the Malfoy patriarch if he needed to.

"Now, Draco, remember what I told you about there being a reason for everything?" Draco nodded. "Well, my reason is...is one of a delicate nature... Which is why I'm using this penseive to help me tell you. There are some things it's just too painful to talk about at times. So... I'm afraid most of the talking is going to be done by this," Lucius indicated the penseive with a wave of his hand.

"Is it something to do with grandfather?" the boy asked, astutely picking up on the form of his father's boggart. Severus was impressed. _I very much doubt that even Miss Hermione Granger would have made that connection so swiftly._ (Despite his dislike of the girl, he did admit to himself that she was indeed a most talented witch.) Lucius shied away from the word as though it burned, but didn't flee as the potions-master had supposed he would.

"Yes, it is," Lucius nodded. "Do you remember anything about him?"

"Not much – I was only three when he died, wasn't I?"

"Yes... Dear God. I can't believe it's been nearly thirteen years now..." The Malfoy patriarch lowered his eyes to stare at his hands, which were twisting in his lap. "What do you remember?"

Draco screwed up his eyes, obviously finding it difficult to sort out the memories that toddlers gain. "Urm... I remember that he shouted a lot. And – uh – he didn't seem to like mother much. Nor me for that matter." Lucius nodded.

"No, he never did take to you. It's a sad fact, but a true one. He felt I was spending too much time with you, and not enough with him – it made him rather jealous."

"Jealous? But, why? I would have thought he'd be happy – a Malfoy heir and all that," Draco said this with a touch of bitterness, and was surprised when his father laughed. He had been expecting a reprimand, not an agreement.

"It seems you understand the fickle ways of the rich even better than I thought you did, son." Lucius chuckled some more, and Severus knew that if this carried on, he would get hysterical. Thankfully, Lucius calmed quickly. "Yes, well... At first, he _was_ pleased that you were a boy. In his own words 'it means that I won't have to bloody well see my fortune ripped away by McNair's little brat!'"

"McNair?"

"Yes... Every rich magical family in Europe has a designated group of families to which children shall be wed. It was intended that you should marry Pansy Parkinson-" Draco gasped, and was about to say something, but Lucius continued to speak, not allowing him to get a word in. "Don't worry, I'll not be enforcing that – it's one of the things I never agreed with about this ridiculous life. You didn't ask to be born into this, so I see that it stands to reason that you shouldn't have to go along with it." He took a deep breath, and smiled tightly at Draco.

"So...why didn't Grandfather like me then?"

"Well, as I said, he felt that I spent too much time with you. He was...neglected. So, he turned to drink – don't give me that look!" From where he was sitting, Severus could see that Draco had quirked an eyebrow accusatively at his father. Lucius sighed heavily, "Please, just let me get on with it?"

"Alright... So, Grandfather wanted you to spend more time with him – got it."

"If only it were quite that simple," Lucius muttered.

"Well then, what?"

"...Well, the only way to really explain it, is to go back to when I was your age," Lucius began, his words coming out haltingly. "It was around that time that the Dark Lord was really beginning to show his power... I don't know how my father knew him, but he started to lend funds to the cause. Of course, he wouldn't take the mark, as Malfoy's aren't supposed to get their hands dirty... But, he was well liked because of his great amounts of money, and I was destined to take over the task of running the finances after he died.

"I didn't want this – I felt annoyed that he would presume that he could tell me what to do. When I started Hogwarts, he wasn't too involved, but, by fifth year, it was difficult for a day to go by without hearing about death eaters. Over the years, I became a lot closer to my mother (your Grandmother, though you never knew her. She died before you were born.) We gathered together bits of muggle things – a stereo, television, records, those kinds of things..." Lucius paused, and smiled at the happy memory.

"Of course, we had to keep these hidden away, because your Grandfather disliked muggles a great deal. So, we used one of the cellars to hide away in."

"Which one?" Draco asked, now leaning so far forward that Severus found it amazing he was still managing to stay upon the seat.

"You wouldn't know it – it's bricked up. But, perhaps one day I'll show you..." Lucius said, half-promising. "However, back to what I was saying... We kept all these things down there, and he didn't find out about them. At least, not until the Christmas of my sixth year. That was when he discovered my mother and I, after tricking us into believing he had left the manor."

"What happened?" Draco queried, now obviously deeply enthralled by the whole story. Severus couldn't blame him... After all the years he had known Lucius, he had been most keen to discover his secrets. And, when Lucius had finally divulged all, Severus could remember that he too had been upon the edge of his seat.

"Well, he destroyed it. The whole room. After that, I spent most of my time outside, in order to escape his anger. He...he..." Severus quickly got up, and went to stand behind Lucius, placing a comforting pair of hands on his shoulders.

"It's alright. Carry on," Severus prompted. Lucius inhaled sharply, and nodded.

"Yes... Well, he acted in a very violent manner towards my mother – at one point, he succeeded in breaking her leg, he was so angry. I tried to get her to tell someone, to leave the manor, but she wouldn't have any of it. Didn't want people to think she had a 'bad husband', and that she'd chosen wrongly... Damn pride..."

"Hey, calm down Luc," Severus whispered, looking over the older Malfoy's head to see the face of the younger, which was paler than usual.

"God, I can't!" Lucius burst out.

"You _have_ to!" Severus said sternly, preventing Lucius from evacuating his seat and fleeing the room. "Just take a few seconds, and then carry on, OK?" Lucius nodded, and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he steadied his breathing. "Better now?"

"Yes." Lucius looked back at Draco, who offered him a warm, concerned smile. "Now, on one such occasion when your Grandfather was home, I was already outside, playing in the snow and making a general fool of myself," the black-haired potions-master snorted at this, and Lucius scowled good-naturedly at him. "Well, anyway, there I was, attempting to build a snowman, when, all of a sudden, wham! Someone chucked a snowball at the side of my head. It caught me off guard, so I ended up falling over, and ruining what I'd managed to do of the snowman so far.

"It was my dad. It was pretty odd – he seemed to be just as he had been before he'd gotten mixed up with The Dark Lord. And, well, young idiot that I was, I wanted to believe that everything was all right again. We had a brief (but brutal) snowball fight, and then went back inside to warm up and get changed...

"It was then, that... That it all started. I... I don't think I can talk about this. I'll be in the study – Draco, come over here and watch this." Draco didn't move. "Draco?"

"Only if you promise me – give me your word – that you won't consume anything, alcoholic or illegal, whilst you're in there." Severus contained a laugh at the role-reversal before him. Lucius cast a guilty look to the floor, whilst Draco stubbornly glared at him.

"On my life, I won't," Lucius said sombrely, pushing the penseive towards Draco, and getting up to go to the study. "Sev – come with me. I... I don't want to be alone at the moment. Draco, will you be alright in here?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. How does this work?"

"Press the button on the base – it's in the right place," Lucius answered wearily, darting into the office so that he wouldn't have to see the memories starting up again. Severus followed at a more sedate pace, pausing in the study doorway to look at Lucius, who had collapsed in his soft chair, and was shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, Luc," he walked over and sat on the floor next to the chair, resting his head upon Lucius' lap. "It'll be fine... And, well, at least you've done it. The hardest part is over."

"I wish I could believe that Sev. I really do."

* * *

_Artistic license for Snape's boggart, because, in my opinion, when you look at the chapter 'Snape's Worst Memory', it seems to imply that the boggart would be his father. But, well, I wanted to change that to make it a little more interesting..._

_Again, the name of the drug ('Beatatis Immortalitus') was nonsense in Latin. Both of them mean 'beautiful' in one sense or another. To roughly translate, I'd say the drug was called 'Beautiful Immortality', as a sort of joke, because it would make the taker less than beautiful, and would most certainly shorten their lifespan. I'm weird... I know._

_Chapter was a bitch to write. The boggart was just something random thrown in, because I wanted to show a little more of Lucius/Severus past. Now, however, we get to see Draco's reaction. Meep. That's going to be even harder to write! Stupid, stupid ideas of mine!_

_Anyway, lots of love from me, canihavea-soda._

_Special thanks to Sandy Girvan, because she loves my devious mind. [Giggles.] I'm loved!_

_PS: I don't know about anyone else, but don't you just love vulnerable!Lucius. It's...in my head...the most adorable thing ever._


	9. Divining

**Divining **

_Disclaimer: I own the shoddy new rhyming couplets for the chapter titles! The next chapter will be called 'declining'. And, folks, that may nor may not be a little clue as to the chapter content! Anyway, legal mumbo-jumbo. JKRowling owns all characters pertained, I haven't asked her permission, and I'm not saying these characters belong to me._

_Heh, well, in the last chapter, I managed to trick you all into thinking of a threesome (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it just wouldn't have worked in context! If you wish, I may write a silly little spin off with said threesome, and I'll post it up sometime. If you do want it, just bug me in a review!) Well, now we get to see a little more of Lucius' past, and Draco's reaction to it all. There'll also be spots of Lucius/Severus man-love, just to keep you all happy!_

_**Warning: **Yeah, you guessed it, more angst. But fluff as well, I think..._

* * *

"I need a drink," Lucius proclaimed, not more than a minute or two after he and Severus had retreated into the study.

"You promised Draco," Severus pointed out sternly, closing his eyes indulgently as Lucius' played with his hair. "I think you should keep your word Luc."

"I know I should," the Malfoy agreed, sounding regretful. "But I just don't want to be coherent when he comes in here, disgusted with me." There was a slight hitch in Lucius' voice. "Do you reckon if we hurry, we can erase his memory?" he asked.

"Don't be silly," Severus scolded, opening his eyes and viewing an upside-down Lucius by tilting his head back. "And why on earth would he be disgusted? It wasn't your fault."

"I didn't do enough to prevent it," the blond answered, dropping his jittery hands from the silken strands of ebony hair before him. "I should have done more."

"If you'd done anymore, he would have killed you. You know that!" Severus protested.

"...well then... Maybe it would have been better that way..." Lucius' voice had dropped again, and he returned his hands to Severus' hair. "At least there's still you – you won't leave me, will you?"

"Don't be daft – of course I won't," the potions-master assured the pureblood. _Because I couldn't imagine my life without you..._

* * *

Draco fumbled with the button on the base, and finally succeeded in pressing it in the right manner. Immediately, the memories began to unfold before him, and he leant forwards slightly in order to get a better look. A few silvery tendrils reached out and wrapped around him, attempting to pull him into the memory, and he hurriedly sat back, not wanting to experience things quite so...vividly...as being within the memory would have allowed him too. _Especially considering how shaken up father was..._

The scene that finally swam into focus within the jewel-encrusted penseive was mostly white, showing the Malfoy manor covered in a layer of frosty snow. The view honed in on a young man trudging through the snow, hands jammed deeply into pockets and head down against the chill wind that was buffeting him from side to side. Draco could hear that the man was humming something – it sounded a bit like 'Fever', by Peggy Lee. Draco smiled, and when the young man looked up, he realised with a start that it was his father. _Well, what were you expecting? These are his memories after all, stupid!_

Draco ignored his own stupidity, and watched as his father (who must have been only around sixteen or so), scuffed his highly buffed shoes along the frost-covered path, before deviating, and stepping into the shin-deep snow on the grass. He reached down, and grabbed a handful of snow in bare hands, balling it up and then throwing it up into the air, stopping to watch it explode when it landed again. The young Lucius smiled a little, and bent down again, starting to gather snow into a pile, in order to make a snowman.

Whilst he did this, Draco was able to see another person creeping up behind Lucius, snowball in hand. Lucius rolled his own ball of snow around, until he had a sizable lump. Then, he stood up, and dusted his hands off, a proud sort of look on his face as he admired his own handiwork. Then, just as he'd described earlier, a snowball hit him directly in the side of the face, and he collapsed onto the snowman's body, sending the white powder flying everywhere. Draco covered his mouth with his hand, trying to contain a laugh.

His father stumbled to his feet, tripping on his cloak as he did so. Then, his jaw dropped, and the view changed to show – _Grandfather. Before he went grey... _Draco had only ever seen his Grandfather with brown hair in his portrait on the landing. He was surprised by how much healthier the man looked in this picture. His father and grandfather talked for a little while, but none of it seemed of much consequence, and Draco wondered if there was a way to fast-forward past this.

His hands were still on the edge of the penseive, and, almost as if it had heard his thoughts, the memories swirled, skipping forwards to the snowball sight, and then to show his father and grandfather walking back into the manor. _Stop! This is where it needs to play from! _Again, the penseive responded perfectly to his thoughts, beginning to play out the memories at normal speed once more.

Grandfather Lance had his arm thrown over Lucius' shoulders, and was walking with him through the manor, to what Draco supposed must have been his father's old rooms. They left a trail of water-droplets from the snow melting off their clothes, and a particularly large puddle gathered when they paused for a moment outside Lucius' rooms whilst he fumbled with the door. Finally, the handle turned, and they were able to get in – Lance followed Lucius in, and dropped down into a chair, conjuring up a fire and offering to have cocoa bought up.

"Yeah, alright. I'm just going to get changed, might have a shower," Lucius answered, walking towards another door. He pushed it open, and Draco could tell by the tiles on the wall that it must be the bathroom. The mirrors on the walls were surrounded by wrought-iron flowers, which twisted and turned, as though continuously growing at an incredible rate all around the mirror.

The next picture was one that Draco, for some reason, couldn't help but be enthralled by. His father shed his clothes, leaving them lying around haphazardly on the floor, pools of icy water collecting around them on the tiled floor. Remembering back to the strange dream he had had, Draco leant forwards, intrigued by the picture in front of him. This time, however, he leant too far, and the penseive's tendrils grabbed hold of him before he could pull himself back once more. With a small yelp, he was sucked into the past.

* * *

He landed with a small thump, and looking around, found that he was sitting on the same surface that the washbasin was sunk into. He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable on the cool surface, and tried to figure out where his father was. The sound of running water drew his attention to the shower, and he could just make out a dim outline through the frosted glass of the doors. _So he's in the shower... What's so amazing about that? _Draco wondered if his father hadn't managed to lose his few remaining marbles...

The sound of a door clicking made Draco start, and he looked at the door into the bedroom guiltily, waiting to be reprimanded. The door swung open, and Lance stepped in, dropping his cloak as he did so, and starting to work on the buckle of his belt as he padded across the tiles, worming his way around the piles of clothes on the floor. Draco recoiled, pressing himself back against the large mirror on the wall – Lance paused, and looked directly at him, running fingers through damp locks of hair. Then, he carried on towards the shower, now clad only in shirt and underwear.

"Bloody hell, ow!" his father exclaimed from within the shower, knocking into the door slightly as he fumbled to open it. His grandfather deftly whipped the towel from the rack by the shower, and removed his remaining clothes swiftly – Draco looked away with a twist of nausea in his stomach. _It's about now that I realise I've seen enough...eurgh... _Lance wrapped the towel around himself, and stood by the shower door, watching in amusement as Lucius obviously felt around for the towel.

His hand alighted on Lance's foot, and he prodded it a few times, before cracking open his eyes to check what he'd found. "Dad? What are you doing in here?" Lucius asked, rather indignantly, standing up. Lance just licked his lips, and whispered something in a low growl that Draco couldn't make out. Obviously, it wasn't a very pleasing proposition, as Lucius exclaimed, "What the fuck is up with you? You cannot be serious – this is absurd!"

Lance's cool composure exploded, and he began to yell – the shouts rang off the tiled walls, and Draco was so shocked that he literally fell off the surface, colliding painfully with the floor. He rolled over, and looked up to see his father trying to pull the door shut, and then it being flung open by his Grandfather, who stepped in. By watching the vague outlines beyond the glass, he was able to see his Grandfather stumble, and then his father come bolting out, grabbing his dripping wet cloak on the way. His father's eyes were wide and panicked, and Draco picked himself up before his Grandfather followed.

"Dad, what is it?" Lucius didn't answer Draco. He just fumbled with his door, throwing himself against it to try and open it. This didn't work, and he then looked around frantically. Draco rushed forwards, hoping to help, and grabbed hold of the handle, twisting it around, and also throwing himself against the wood. It was to no avail, and Lucius didn't even seem to notice his efforts. "Hey! Come on, don't give up, help me!" he cried, putting his shoulder against the wood, and pushing as hard as he could. Lucius ignored him.

"Hey come on, stop ignoring me and help!" he reached out to grab his father's arm...and his hand passed right through it. "What the fuck?" He tried again, and again his hand passed through his younger father, just as it would if he were swiping at a ghost. Though, instead of the slimy cold feeling you got from passing your arm through a ghost, Draco felt nothing at all.

The bathroom door slammed, and both Draco and Lucius turned around, pressing themselves up against the door. Draco watched his father fumble around for a weapon of some kind, and saw him pick up an expensive looking vase. Lucius threw it blindly, and it fell far short of the mark. Lance just guffawed at the pitiful attempt, and raised his wand. "Imperio," he muttered calmly. Draco smirked. _Yeah, as if that would work on father!_

"Come here Lucius." Draco expected nothing to happen, so when his father started obediently walking towards his Grandfather, he was shocked. _What the-? But...he wouldn't...it doesn't...affect him... _He felt confused, and winced as Lance poked Lucius in the chest, causing him to collapse heavily onto the floor. Then, he watched with a growing sense of horror in the pit of his stomach, as his Grandfather bent down, and grabbed his father's chin, forcing a kiss upon him. _Oh my fucking God..._

Lucius obviously did something to annoy Lance, as, the next thing Draco knew, Lucius was writhing on the floor, in the full-hold of the Cruciatus curse. "NO!" he bellowed, running forwards and attempting to tackle Lance. However, as he had done earlier with his father, he passed right through the man, and cannoned into the wall on the other side. A little dazed, he picked himself up, and turned around to see his Grandfather carry his prone father to the bed, and roughly throw him onto it.

Draco turned away once more, but, like a broom-crash, he found that he just had to look back. "You will kiss...and you will do as I say...understand?" Lance growled, hands already roaming all over Lucius' body, which was shuddering a great deal. Draco stared, unblinking, as his father's body was uncovered. _Oh God...this is so...wrong...but I can't look away... _He unconsciously licked his lips as the cloak was completely removed, and found himself wishing to be the one sitting astride Lucius on the bed...

_Jesus..._

* * *

Severus felt relaxed, despite the highly emotional state of his lover, and the importance of the situation. For now, at least, Lucius needed him. And he liked to feel needed. _And, as long as I'm needed, I won't have to be alone. _He once again took a peek at Lucius, to see how he was faring – the blond had turned his face to the side, and was looking out of the window at the darkening sky beyond the glass. This position displayed his noble profile to the full, and made the tears running down his cheeks all the more noticeable.

_I don't think I've ever seen him quite this bad in my entire life, _Severus thought, a tinge of worry to his thoughts. _I just hope Draco understands...or else this might be enough to finish him off... _Severus immediately cut off his own thoughts, not so much as wanting to contemplate would could occur. For now, he was content to know that, whilst Lucius didn't love him, he at least cared for him.

_After all, the fact that he's sorry that he doesn't love me, must mean something...mustn't it? _He thought back to their earlier conversation, trying to unravel it all in his head... However, everything was just so muddled and tangled that he wasn't able to. He sighed softly, and lifted his head from Lucius' lap. The other looked down, being startled out of his silent reverie by the movement. "Sev?"

"Just stretching," he explained, throwing his arms up into the air, and then joining hands in order to pop his back. "Here, is there room for me to sit?" he turned around and looked at the chair...it didn't look like it. However, ever accommodating, Lucius shuffled forwards, leaving enough room for Severus to sit down (if he didn't mind Lucius half-sitting on his lap.) _Would anyone? _He thought with a fond smile as he stood up, and slid into the space made for him.

"That enough room?" Lucius enquired, trying to subtly wipe the tears from his face. Severus felt very glad that the man had at least gained enough composure to do so, but grabbed his hands, and held hem in his own.

"Yes, thank you." Lucius turned around to raise an eyebrow, and try to get his hands back, and Severus quickly darted in, kissing the tears away. Then, he placed a calming kiss upon slightly parted lips, sharing the salty-sweet tears with the one who shed them. "Come here," Severus let go of his hands, and then grabbed him firmly around the waist, pulling the Malfoy fully onto his lap.

Lucius slumped a little, so that he could rest his head (turned slightly to the side) on Severus' shoulder. "Better?"

"A little," he answered, putting his own hands over Severus', which still encircled his waist. "I suppose all there is left to do, is wait."

* * *

Draco was unceremoniously thrown from the penseive and back onto the sofa as soon as that particular memory had ended. He shook his head, wiping frustrated tears from his cheeks, and also tenderly poking at the many bruises he'd managed to sustain before finally realising that there was no point trying to change the memory. It had already happened, and he couldn't touch the past anymore than he could touch the stars.

_How could anyone do that to their own son...? I...I just... God, it's **sick!**__No wonder father never – the portrait hidden away – moved to the other side of the manor... Didn't even go to Grandfather's funeral... _Draco's hands were clasped firmly upon the edges of the penseive, and the misty contents swirled around. Pictures formed and then unformed, nothing staying for more than a second, hovering on the surface of years of turmoil.

He tore his eyes away from the mystifying sight, and looked over at the door to the study. How long had he been there, watching things that had already happened? How much longer would he be allowed to peruse his father's memories? He wasn't sure, and gently removed his fingers from the lip of the penseive, sitting back on the couch and staring at the shimmering contents of the expensive container.

_What else is there to know? _He wondered. _What else does he want me to know? _With some trepidation, he put his hands back on the sides of the vessel, and looked into it again, trying to think of something that might give him more clues about Lucius. _Why is he like he is? And professor Snape...why – how – how did they...? _His thoughts didn't even finish before another scene began to play before him.

This time, he carefully and fastidiously kept his distance. Every time a misty tendril attempted to wrap itself around his wrist, he would quickly snap his hand back, ensuring that he stayed this side of the timeline.

* * *

The image he saw was of his father, leaning against a battered old oak door, wand in hand and hair in disarray. Heavy footsteps echoed down a hallway some distance away, and two heartbeats thudded heavily in the musty air. Lucius looked down, to see a woman in her late thirties clutching her right arm close to her chest. It was wrapped in bandages, which were stained with a bright scarlet liquid. _Blood,_ Draco realised, when she moved, and grimaced slightly.

_That must be Grandmother Adriana. _Lucius readjusted his stance, so that he was braced against the door. His Grandmother just continued to cower on the floor, whimpering softly as her arm obviously pained her. "Shh," his father urged, putting a finger to his lips, and then pressing his ear against the worn wood. She nodded, and placed her left fist before her mouth, muffling any sounds she might make.

There was an almighty explosion, and both of them ducked their heads down against the shower of rubble that rained down from the ceiling above. Adriana looked up first, and gasped when she saw blood running down her only child's face. "Darling, you're hurt!"

"Shh, it's nothing," he assured her in clipped tones, hushing her with hand-gestures. He put his ear back against the door, and the sound of footsteps started up again, quickly becoming louder and closer. Neither of the people in the room seemed to breathe, and it was only because he could see them that Draco knew there was anyone there at all. Draco saw his father reach down with his free hand (the left one), and withdraw a shining knife from his pocket. Squinting, he saw that it bared a close resemblance to the one that Lucius now used as a letter opener.

The footsteps, which had been sounding loudly, halted. Draco saw Lucius' whole body tense, as a knock came at the door against which he leant. "I know you're in there, Lucius. Stop this ridiculous little game, and come out here right now," a voice bellowed; he recognised it as his Grandfather's. Lucius didn't answer, perhaps hoping to fool the man on the other side of the door into believing that there was no one in the room.

"I shall count to three, and then I will blast this door down, regardless of whether or not you are standing behind it." Lucius abruptly stepped away from the door, and fell down on his knees next to Draco's Grandmother. He threw his arms around her, and placed himself between her and the door. Draco listened out for the numbers to be counted, but there was silence...at least, until...

"Three!" the door exploded inwards, sending deadly showers of splinters and nails from the hinges flying into the room. Draco blanched as these sharp objects pounded into his father's back, sending small showers of blood flying with each new impact. Lucius didn't flinch, and only tightened his grip on his mother as the torrent of shrapnel finally ceased, and Lance stepped into the room.

Dust clung to Lucius' hair, and he turned his head to the side, a snarl on his face. "You didn't even have the decency to die properly, did you?" He stood up, ensuring to keep himself between his mother and danger as he did so. Lance just glowered, sending a globule of spittle flying through the air to land at his son's feet. Then, he dropped a small body onto the floor – it rolled over when he kicked it, and came to rest a foot before Lucius.

It was a house-elf, face frozen by rigor mortis into a horrific grimace. "Poison, Lucius? Could you perhaps be anymore predictable?" He chuckled darkly. "Accio knife," the knife flew from Lucius' hand and into Lance's outstretched one. "Tsk, tsk Lucius, you could have hurt someone with something like this," he let the metal fall to the floor.

"That was the intention," Lucius answered through gritted teeth.

"Well, that's not very pleasant of you, is it now?" Lance said, employing a sing-song voice as he approached the two members of his family, wand bared. "Adriana, what did I tell you? The boy needs discipline, and yet you keep letting him run off to do what he likes. Now, that's not what I'd call good parenting skills...not at all!" He threw a sloppy punch at Lucius, who ducked it and returned with one of his own – magic was forgotten for a few seconds as he fought vainly to stop his father hurting his mother again.

He had forgotten, of course, that his father was a lot stronger than he was. Draco's knuckles where white in the edge of his field of vision, as he tensely watched the drama in front of him. Lance managed to finally get Lucius out of the way with a perfectly-aimed chop to the wind-pipe, which made the blond collapse to the floor, gagging.

His Grandmother looked up, her blue eyes wide with terror – she tried to scuffle backwards, but leant too heavily on her injured arm, which caused her to slump onto the floor. Lance kicked her hard in the stomach, and she curled up on herself. Lucius was trying to get up and crawl over, but the blow to his throat had been enough to seriously hinder his breathing, and Draco could see that he was struggling to just stay awake. His wand had flown from his hands as he fell, and was no nowhere to be seen.

"I believe, that I warned you before," Lance growled, now crouching down, and grabbing the blonde woman by the throat. "Adriana...such a lovely wife you would have been – if only you had known how to do what you were told." She struggled weakly in his grasp, he good arm latching onto the one that pincered her throat, and trying to pull it away. Draco's Grandfather chuckled again, and then pointed his wand to the side of her head, much like 'the bad guy' in a muggle movie would point a gun.

"Father," Lucius wheezed, drawing Lance's attention. He floundered a little in his crawl towards his parents, having to crawl the last few feet on his belly. Lance watched him with eyebrows raised. "I – I'm sorry...whatever it was... Punish me. Not her," this speech took what little strength Lucius had left, and his head lolled onto the floor, eyes barely open. Lance just shook his head, and returned his full attention to Adriana.

"Well, my dear, this looks like good-bye." Draco shook his head, and felt a scream bubble up in his throat. _No, he can't – this can't be right, it has to be a trick, I-_

"Avada Kedavra." There was a flash of green light, and then everything went black.

"NO!" Draco screeched, flinging himself backwards so violently that he succeeded in tipping the sofa over, and landed with a heavy thump onto the carpeted floor behind. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was that light, that horrible, bright green intense light. _Just like Potter sees, just like Potter... Nonononononono! _

* * *

Lucius jumped up from Severus' lap, Severus following closely behind him. They both cannoned into the lounge, and found Draco lying curled up on the floor, shuddering, looking at the carpet and mumbling to himself. "Nononononono, just like Potter, the light, oh God, and the noise!" Severus panicked, and reached out to check on his student – Lucius grabbed his hand.

"Leave him. Give it a minute, all right?"

"But-"

"Trust me," Lucius barked, once again holding command. Both of the men sat crossed-legged on the carpet, looking at the shivering teen. Slowly, he stopped shaking, and the mumbling ceased altogether. Severus tilted his head a little as Draco opened his eyes, looking about as helpless as a newborn kitten. "Draco?"

"Father?" the boy rasped, looking up at Lucius. Then, to both of their surprise, the boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck and making them both topple backwards onto the floor. Gingerly, Lucius returned the impassioned embrace, patting Draco gently on the back and looking at Severus helplessly. Severus just shook his head, and stood up, moving away from the touching family moment, and picking up the penseive in order to put it away.

Lucius wasn't sure what to do, too shocked by this reaction to do anything but lie there. So, when Draco's grip loosed, he just looked up quizzically at his son. Draco returned the look, unashamedly meeting his eye. Within the grey pools, Lucius could see the beginnings of understanding, and felt his worries begin to dissipate. _As long as he can start to understand, then the rest should be all right..._

H shuffled slightly, trying to hint without saying anything that Draco should perhaps move. The hint wasn't taken, and he opened his mouth to suggest the right course of action would be to let him up, when Draco dipped his head back down, and timidly crushed his lips against Lucius' open ones. It was obvious that he'd never kissed (or been kissed before), and Lucius tightened his hold on Draco, returning the kiss with a tender, gentle one of his own.

_**There...now, isn't this better?**_

_What? NO! _Lucius released his hands from Draco's back, and then pushed the boy away altogether, jumping to his feet and fleeing his chambers altogether. Draco lay dazed on the floor, and started when the door slammed shut behind Lucius.

"Dad?"

* * *

_Aha! New reviewer! Woot! [Laughs] Sorry...I get excited easily. Dirty dancer, your thoughts aren't strange at all – in fact, that's a really interesting way to think about the penseives! (I'm not really sure which one it would be either... But, in Lucius' case, it would probably be heavy because it'd be made out of something precious, and would also be full of so many memories, considering what he's been through!) [Pats Lucius on the head.] I'm so mean. _

_Again, a big thanks to everybody whose reviewed. I can't quite convey how much it means to me that people take the time to even read my stuff, so when people review, it's just – wowish. _

_With regards – Soda_

_PS: Much Severus/Lucius fluff. I couldn't resist...sorry... _

_PPS: [Pokes Draco] Adorable little virgin. Aww!_


	10. Declining

**Declining **

_Disclaimer: Still not mine. I should really get into gear and actually steal them already [sigh]. _

_Today's inspiration is drawn from the lovely and sultry tones of Alex Band, the Calling. Have been listening to the old Camino Palmero album whilst writing this, and the sense of betrayal in Adrienne, coupled with the general darkness of the whole album (and my love of Stigmatized...) helped me a lot in getting the chapter started. So – woo for the Calling (even if they did break up forever ago.)_

_In the last chapter, we got to see Draco, the ultimate drama queen! There was random jumping into the past via penseives, angsty but fluffy love between Severus and Lucius. I think I may well have scarred Draco's poor virgin mind forevermore though... For which I apologise to the lad profusely! And then...The Kiss. And yes, I do believe it warrants capital letters now. So, anyway, now we get to see Lucius' reaction, Draco contemplating what he has just done, and watch as the realisation of Lucius' interests dawns upon our dearest potions master. _

_**Warning: **Ah, the joys of incest. It is in there my friends. So is murder, implications of characters self-harming (though nothing shown.), jealousy, but fluff yet again instilled in places._

* * *

Lucius walked the empty, echoing hallways in disarrayed perplexity. _All those years... All that time I spent trying to prevent myself from becoming my father... Not once – never in my life did I dream that...he would..._ He reached up a trembling hand to gently touch his own lips, trying to find the validation that this had been real. By flickering his tongue over his bottom lip, he was able to taste the slightest hint of sweetness – of Draco.

Lucius knew it must be Draco, because his own mouth tasted only of the vile aftertaste left by too much drinking. But, the taste he'd discovered was of coffee and chocolate, suffused with the minty freshness supplied by a recent brushing of the teeth. He delighted in these flavours, taking obscene pleasure in picking the sweetness apart and supplying reasons for it. _Draco adores coffee, and chocolate for that matter...and he always brushes after every meal (when he can). _

The smile that had dawned upon his face, fell when he saw where his feet had taken him. In violation of his inattentive and wandering mind, they had bought him to an old part of the manor.

The underground walls held a much thicker coating of both moss and dust than they had the last time Lucius was here. The scent of whatever delightful foods were being prepared for Narcissa's guests pervaded the air, and his smile returned when he smelled roasting coffee beans.

Reaching out with the same hand he had placed to his lips earlier, the Malfoy patriarch touched the wall nearest to him, marvelling once more at his own property. It was damp to the touch, but warmed by the great fires in the kitchens beyond. As usual, a small layer of moss clung to his fingertips, and he uncaringly wiped it across his once-immaculate white shirt, leaving muddy streaks on the expensive fabric. His regard for his appearance had been severely depleted during the course of the day, and he plunged his (still filthy) hands into his pockets, and slouched against the wall. The strange sensation of cool, damp moss and the warmth of the kitchen through the wall but easily through his shirt, the moss giving the garment a distinctly brown colour.

He looked at the opposite wall, noticing that not only was there moss, but also a vast colony of fungi. Tiny mushrooms poked milky white caps from beneath green fronds, growing at, what seemed to him, impossible angles. But, this wall all just unimportant background noise (as it were) to him – the most vivid image he could picture was Draco...

The boy sitting astride him, only this time he was fully clothed – embracing him, sobbing slightly, and then placing uncertain lips against his.

So, so right.

And so incredibly wrong.

Lucius turned his red-rimmed eyes to the lichen covered ceiling, wondering who exactly it was up there that hated him this much. _You'd think they'd done enough to me already, without this. It's just – wrong! I...I cannot pursue this._

**_Even though he was the one that kissed you? Hardly seems sporting, _**the hissing voice wheedled, employing sugary tones to point this fact out.

_He...he did...but no! What if I have this all wrong anyway? Perhaps he was just trying to comfort me or-_

_**Nonsense. He's willing to be taken, so take him before he changes his mind!**_

_He'll hate me, _Lucius protested weakly, sliding down the wall, bringing the moss with him; it clung to his back and hair as he brushed across the stones.

**_He won't...and you'll finally have what you want...after all this time..._** Lucius closed his eyes as he met with the floor, and all he could see was Draco. Everywhere behind his eyelids – Draco.

Smiling. Laughing. Frowning. Kissing. Making love.

Everything he wanted – no – _needed. _But still, he was not completely won over by the idea. A shimmer of something misted his vision, and a tiny voice fought to be heard. The Malfoy man struggled strongly against the tide of lust, fighting against the raging current as he floundered upstream. Tiny snippets of heated protestation filtered through, though everything was heavily muffled. _...your son...hurt him...can't betray...love but in love... _He buried his head in his hands, and let out a sharp yelp of pure frustration. And suddenly...

Silence. Blissful, merciful silence. And only his own thoughts left – the one voice he had always relied upon. _Don't listen to it all – those are just the kind of things the Dark Lord would promise. They're not right, and they'll never happen. Ever. _

He dared to look up from his hands, half expecting his cry to have bought people running. Obviously, he had gone unheard, and, infinitely glad of this, he struggled back to his feet. He followed the hallway around, until he came to a bricked up dead-end. Patting around in his pockets, he searched for his wand. Lucius found it, but didn't draw it immediately. Instead. In the pause between actions, he studied the strange appearance of new brick against old stone.

When the incantation he'd wanted reached the forefront of his mind, Lucius immediately said it into the musty air. The wall of red bricks vibrated slightly in their settings, and a few from the middle tumbled to the floor on the other side of the wall. Dust clouds erupted as cement crumbled into nothing, allowing the once-solid structure to wobble unstably when he nudged it with his toe. After a deep breath, and after replacing his wand into his belt, Lucius pressed both palms flat against the tottering brick pile.

With a minimal amount of exertion, he succeeded in toppling them like a child does building blocks. The dust billowed all around, making visibility close to zero, and he couched softly as he waited for the powder to settle from the air. When it had, he lit his wand with a hastily murmured, "Lumos," as he took it out once more. He held it aloft so that it would cast more light.

Broken furniture lay everywhere, now covered in an even thicker layer of dust after his messy entrance. Lucius carefully picked his way over the collapsed wall and into the musty old room. He stopped by two chair-like protrusions, and bent down to study the nearest one. There was stuffing poking out of a gaping hole at the top... _So many years...he bricked it up the same Christmas he found it. _

Where the Malfoy patriarch had expected to find solace, he only found a detached anger. It was pointed at so many people and in so many directions that he couldn't decide how to let it out. Carelessly, he pushed a pile of broken records, chair pieces and clods of dust out of the way – when his hand hit something cool and smooth, he suddenly stopped, and pointed the tip of his wand at it.

The breath hitched in Lucius' throat as he picked up the almost perfectly intact china cup – his mother's cup. The handle had snapped off, and a large chip marred the rim; otherwise, it was still perfect. He choked slightly, tears and dust hindering his breathing, and all of his anger turned around.

**_See what you did? You may as well have been the one to do it, you fool! It was all your fault!_**

_No...it was-_

_'**Your father'? Bollocks. If it weren't for you, she'd still be alive! Useless, ungrateful little-**_

_You're right..._the cup fell from now limp hands, and finally shattered after all the years it had managed to keep together.

The porcelain shards glinted in a world otherwise mottled with the dust of age. Lucius looked at it morosely, and then reached out a hand to pick up one of the larger pieces. Turning it over, blue eyes widened when he saw a daisy at the centre of the floral pattern on the ex-vessel. _Draco..._once more, he allowed the china to fall to the floor, and then he forced himself to his feet. _I have to go and see him. _

**_And say what exactly? 'Sorry son, but I'm madly in love with you, so we can either shag, or you can live with someone else to keep yourself safe'. _**The voice mocked him, and he stopped halfway through scaling the pile of rubble to get out of the room. **_Well, what do you propose to do then, oh 'genius-one'?_**

_I don't know. But anything is better than leaving him alone right now. _The voice had no comment to that, and he continued his journey back up to the manor proper.

* * *

Draco stared at the closed door, suspended in time and completely still. It was only the sight of Severus returning from the study that bought him to his senses. He blinked once...twice...thrice... And then suddenly realised what he'd just done. Flushing deeply, he balled his fists, digging nails into the soft flesh of his palms and silently cursing himself. _What have I done?_ He thought hopelessly to himself, the events of the entire day now turning over in his head.

Severus coughed lightly, drawing his attention. "Where's Lucius?" Draco just looked forlornly at the door. The potions-master caught his meaning, though the quizzical look on his face told Draco that he hadn't witnessed the Malfoy heir's...forward...nature. "Why'd he go?" Severus looked down at him, and Draco just shrugged, and supplied a soft,

"I'm no sure." His voice wavered, and he stumbled to his feet, using the fallen sofa to help himself up. "I'll just go look for him," he murmured, noticing as he swept a trembling hand over his tear-stained features that his nails had drawn blood from his palms. He quickly dropped his hand, slipping both into his pockets to hide the wounds.

"I'll come with you," Severus declared.

"No, that's alri-" Draco began.

"I'll go with you, Draco. You father's not in a good way," Severus cut across him, employing his commanding teaching voice.

"Fine," Draco answered darkly. He hadn't been intending to look for Lucius at all. He'd just been contemplating going back to his own chambers, to purge himself. _There's something seriously wrong with me. This...can't...be...normal! _As his raven-haired professor padded feline-like over to the door, he wrapped his arms around himself, and let out a half-choked sob.

Severus stopped immediately, and looked with worry at the young Malfoy. He opened his mouth to say something, but the blond beat him to it. "Don't even think about asking me what's wrong," he said through gritted teeth, looking stubbornly to the left of the other man. He had the same commanding tone that Lucius had always had... "Let's just go." Severus lingered on the thresh-hold, obviously wanting to query the teen, but after just one look of those grey eyes, he didn't dare.

_After everything that happened to dad. All of it – I can understand why he does – the things – he does. _Draco decided, wincing at the green carpet that met him when they got out into the main hallway. _I think I hate the colour green. _He followed Severus, who seemed to know his way through the manor well. _I wonder how long he's been with father? _Draco thought, feeling the interest of an outsider, rather than relative.

As they walked hallway after hallway, corridor after corridor, the young Malfoy began making his deductions. Only that same morning he had known – well – practically nothing about his father. And now – almost a whole of lifetime had been explained over the course of an hour. _And he saved my life... He's suddenly hot, suddenly cold. Why?_

The potions-master suddenly stopped, and Draco, preoccupied, walked straight into him. "Hey, what-?" Severus whirled around and clapped a hand over his mouth. Draco's eyes went wide at the sight before him, previously blocked by his professor.

They had come upon the gallery above the ballroom, which was full of Narcissa's guests. They were quietly talking amongst themselves. However, when a tall figure cloaked in black stood at the head of the table, and raised a scrawny hand, the talk stopped. Red eyes peered out from a pale snake-like face, appraising the assemble with only one look.

Beside him, Draco saw Severus wince and clutch his arm. _I guess the mark must be painful now that he's so close to him. _Without really thinking about it, Draco sought out the other's hand and clutched onto it. The air around felt ice-cold, even though it was the height of summer. The potions-master winced again, and Draco squeezed his hand, more for his own assurance than anything else. To his great appreciation, Severus allowed him the comfort of continued hand-holding as they watched the scene below.

When the Dark Lord began to speak, the blond didn't hear what he said. There was only a dull rush in his ears, and though he saw the evil creature's lips move, he couldn't discern the words. All he could think about was his father. _He's just wandering around the manor right now. I bet he doesn't even know that Vol- that **he's** here. Be careful dad... Stay where you are for now. _

* * *

Severus listened carefully to the Dark Lord, taking only minimal effort to lock his fingers with his student, allowing him the full knowledge of his intent to protect him should the need arise. With the rest of his attention, he was storing information that could prove useful to the Order in his mind. It seemed that his master (ever the talented wizard) had managed to come up with a few more nasty spells to add to the repertoire of his followers. He had taken into consideration his impeding intake from the past year's seventh year Slytherins, and had made the spells easy, but nonetheless powerful, weapons.

"It is not always key to match brain to brawn, which is all that Dumbledore and his cretins have done. Sometimes, it is better to match brawn with equal and above brawn, which is why I have deigned to show you the new incantations that will allow just that. For, of our new intake, it can't be said that all of them are as intelligent as one would wish...no matter...for this shall be simple enough, even for those who have been addled by Dumbledore's Hogwarts." For one terrible moment, Severus truly believed that this had been said for his benefit.

But, when the Dark Lord just chuckled, and the others around the table leant their own cruel laughs, he knew he had not been noticed. He tugged Draco closer to him, ensuring that they kept deep within the shadows so as not to be seen. The boy shuffled towards him, until they were pressed side-to-side. He looked down with a sour look, finding this not at all helpful, but again allowed his student the illusion of safety.

"McNair," his master needed to prompt no further than that. McNair rose from his seat, looking (quite rightly) a little worried, and went over to the other, bowing deeply. "Construct me a wall." The death eater asked no questions, only stepped forwards a couple of paces into the empty expanse of the dance floor, and raised his wand. Without even saying his incantations aloud, he constructed a hefty wall, ten feet high and perhaps two feet thick (that's how it looked from this angle, at least). It was made out of granite blocks, and the Dark Lord nodded appreciatively. "Very good."

"Thank you m'lord," McNair bowed again, but didn't return to his seat. The master stood up, and moved to stand next to him, wand out. He raised it, robe sleeve slipping down to show skin paler even than that on his own arm.

"Destruxi-exstinctoris," he hissed, almost lazy with his rites in the air with the wand tip. The whole wall exploded. Just before the sound wave hit, Severus thought, _Walls shouldn't be able to explode. _Then, the noise of the stone breaking apart and crumbling rushed over the both of them, and he cringed at the pain it induced in his ears. Not only had the wall collapsed into rubble, but also the rubble itself was flaming. This too was an oddity, for, as far as he knew, granite wasn't flammable.

He blinked, noticed that Draco had pressed against him closer still, and registered the terrible silence after the spell itself. The Dark Lord muttered something to McNair, who was still standing next to him, though rigid with shock. The man quickly came to, and started to tidy up the mess. "The other spell is merely a superfluous one that I thought you would enjoy," the master 'admitted', flashing an eerie smile that didn't reach his glowing red eyes. "McNair – a wall and door, if you please. Elf," a house-elf who had been serving the biscuits and cheese after the dinner stopped in its tracks, before bleating in terror and trying to make an escape.

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord barked, making the small creature collapse and twitch on the floor. "Finite incantatem." Even from where he stood, Severus could see the rise and fall of the small chest of the elf, and the glazed look of panic in its bulbous eyes. _That's another one to die._

"Imperio. Now, stand behind that door," the master directed coolly, not bothering with the additions of please nor thank you. He was far above that now... The elf, unable to fight such strong magic, obeyed to the letter, and disappeared behind the wall. It was allowed ten seconds to reach the door, before the second of the new incantations was administered.

"Alohacommoveo." Again, the spell had a huge effect on the door and wall. The door itself flew open, breaking into millions of deadly splinter shards in the air as it rushed away from the table and diners. The elf shrieked as it was pierced with a million wooden daggers, and it was dead before it hit the floor, showered with the splinters of wood that hadn't embedded themselves within the tiny body. Draco gulped loudly, but it went unheard in the commotion below.

The wall itself wasn't affected too badly, only the doorframe being slightly worse for wear. Tentative applause rang from the assembled, and another of those eerie, cold smiles crossed the Dark Lord's face. Severus felt his stomach fall. _He's planning well for the new recruits. Those are so simple...so bloody dangerous... I'll have to warn the Order about this immediately. _But, more talk sounded below, and he knew he couldn't possibly tear himself away until all the talk ebbed, and there was no more information to gather.

* * *

Just as he came out into the entrance hall of the manor, Lucius took in a great gasp of pain. He clutched his left arm tightly, and fell heavily against the wall, his right shoulder taking all of his weight. _No. Not now. Not bloody now! _He yelled internally, cursing whatever Gods there were for hating him so. _Narcissa will have told him I'm indisposed... I just hope that means he won't be enquiring after Draco's membership today. _A long time ago, Lucius had sworn that the involvement with the Dark Lord would stop with him.

_The next generation of Malfoys must have a new start. A clean start... _The sharp pain in his arm had dulled to an intermittent throbbing, which pulsed as the Dark Lord felt bouts of anger. This was more often that one might think, and as Lucius carefully crept through his own home, trying to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, he kept flinching. _If I'd only known before-hand how much this thing would bother me... I would have chosen death over getting it! _

A wry smile graced his usually sombre face, and he began to climb the grand staircase. It was his intention to go back to his chambers, and try to talk to Draco. _Though I don't know what to say to him. _He had to at least try – he wasn't stupid, after all. He had seen the marks of teenage depression upon Draco – in his narrowed grey eyes, the worry-lines on his young face. _The scars he tries to hide from me. _

It was stunning how history repeated itself, for Lucius could remember that he was almost the same. _Only I wasn't nearly as brave... _Lucius toyed with the idea that Draco would have made a better Gryffindor, but quickly quashed those thoughts. Though his master couldn't read minds at all, he often felt as though he could. He had always been edgy and guarded around the Dark Lord, and knowing that he was in the manor only leant to this.

There was a sudden rattling sound, and looking up, the Malfoy patriarch saw that all of the chandeliers above were shaking, fine crystal beads flashing in the light of the sunset. They chinked against one another, like a thousand wine glasses at a feast. Obviously, vibrations from some spell had caused this, and Lucius hurried onwards, not wanting to be caught if the master was this angry. Especially considering he had lied in order to get out of dinner that evening...

Even though he was decidedly uneasy, he was also filled with a curiosity that would have done any Ravenclaw justice. What could the Dark Lord possibly want? What were his plans...? Lucius knew that he had attacked the muggle headquarters in London, and probably intended to start killing the Ministers of their government soon. But that wouldn't be important enough to have gathered all of his 'top people' together like this.

_So what could it be? _Lucius knew that there was only one way to find out. Feeling mightily glad of the wand that still jabbed into his side at every step, he made his way to the gallery that overlooked the ballroom. _Narcissa couldn't bear to entertain him anywhere less grand, after all, _he thought, smirking slightly at his wife's predictability. When the paintings and tapestries on the walls began to rattle once more, he lengthened his strides, wondering what was going on.

He rounded a corner in the wide hallway, and saw the ornate sidings of the handrail of the gallery, which prevented a nasty twenty-foot drop to the floor below. That wasn't what held his attention for long though. Oh no.

What caught his attention and held it in a timeless instant was seeing his lover and his son standing there in the shadows, spying on the company below. That would have been bad enough (since it meant that Severus was putting Draco in serious danger). But no, the Gods had to curse him yet further.

For the two were holding hands, fingers interlaced, and they were standing as close to one another as it was possible to stand. Draco's head level with the raven-haired man's chin, Draco's shoulder pressed against his lean arm, Draco's hip to his bony pelvis. Lucius couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. Couldn't hear. Couldn't think. Didn't want to.

His Draco.

His Severus.

His heart..._cold._

* * *

"Narcissa, where is young Master Malfoy tonight?" the Dark Lord enquired quietly, once that had all sat down back at the table, and McNair had made the wreckage disappear as though it had never been there. The Malfoy matriarch blinked, and smiled graciously, though her knitted brows betrayed her annoyance.

"I'm not sure m'lord. He went to accompany Severus to a carriage so that he could return to Hogwarts, but I haven't seen him since. I get the feeling he may well be doing homework, or some other such dull thing," she waved a hand and chuckled lightly, making sure to show all of her perfectly straight, beautifully white teeth. _So that's where all those thousands go, _Draco thought, perhaps a little cruelly.

"Could you perhaps have an elf fetch him? If his father cannot be present, then it is best he at least is." The man didn't explain, and no one dared to ask him to explain. Narcissa just nodded to a house elf that was cowering by the door, afraid that it was going to go the same way as its peer. She whispered harshly to it, and it scurried off, only to rush back in a second later, looking stunned. It rushed back over to Narcissa, and hurriedly murmured something to her.

The woman visibly blanched. "Please m'lord, excuse me. I shall go look for him myself. Apparently, he isn't in his rooms." She rose gracefully from her chair, and then strode purposefully out of the room. Draco narrowed his eyes at the house-elf, and saw it clutching a book firmly in it's hands. To his horror, it was the very same textbook that contained all the things he had been hiding.

And if the Dark Lord saw the statuette of the Phoenix, that Dumbledore had given him so that, should he need to, he would be able to go to Diagon alley, and ask the innkeeper to show him the whereabouts of the Order...he was as good as dead. He willed the elf to leave, but it just stood in a redundant way by his mother's empty seat, the book in its hands. _I have to get that book. _He untangled his fingers from his potions-master's, causing the raven-haired man to look down at him quizzically.

He didn't stop to explain, and just turned around...to see his father standing there, glowering at both him and Severus. None of them spoke, and Draco tapped Severus on the shoulder. He scowled, and turned. The scowl left his face as soon as he saw Lucius standing there, arms crossed over his chest, and face dark.

Draco burst back into life after only a few seconds, and started to hurry off, to try and get to the ballroom and get that book before his property could be seen. Even if he had to pretend to the Dark Lord that he would ally with him for a few hours, he would get that book. Because he knew if he didn't, he was doomed.

Lucius caught his arm as he walked by, and swung him around so that he was standing a bare inch from the wall. He glared down at Draco, though the anger quickly lost its intensity and melted into a hopeless smile. His father leant down, so that they were nose-to-nose, and peered into his eyes, sky-blue spheres telling of love and nothing else. Despite his fear, Draco still felt courageous enough to try his father's patience one more time. He searched his father's face for any sign, invitational or defensive.

It was a blank canvas to read, and that meant he could interpret it as he so wished. He chose to read it as a timid allowance, and once more he pressed naïve lips against experienced ones, combining the two for a few seconds before breaking away. The Malfoy patriarch looked afraid, and Draco plied another kiss, this time daring to open his own mouth, not quite sure what to do, but happy to be led when Lucius finally decided to do so. When he next pulled back, there was a content smile on both their faces, and it was only the sound of voices in the ballroom that reminded Draco of his mission.

"I have to go," he whispered. "I'll be back." Lucius just nodded, now incoherent from shock (or so Draco supposed.) With that, Draco slid away from the half-embrace he had been in, and hurried off down the hallway, his strides purposeful. _I'm not going to just leave him alone now. I'll get that book and you-know-who be damned!_

* * *

_[Realises something.] I just realised that this whole story has taken place in just one day. [Blinks.] That's sorta odd. The fact I only just realised I mean – I'm the one who's bloody writing the thing and I didn't notice!_

_Because I'm a freak, I was re-reading all my reviews. And I found myself with tears in my eyes, because of all the nice things people have said to me regarding this. Considering my initial phobia of...well...sex [laughs], I wasn't sure quite what to do or where to go with my ideas. But, all of you who have reviewed have done so in a way that has been incredibly constructive and very helpful indeed, and I thank you all for it. If it ever seems like an author doesn't appreciate you, then it's probably because they just don't know how to display their gratitude. Neither do I really...I'm just babbling...all teary eyed and emotional. Yup. That's me. _

_Heh. I'll shut up now and let you get on with whatever else it is you all do!_

_Soda_

_PS: Seriously. Thank you so very much. I never in a million years would have thought I'd dare to write something like this, let alone post it...yet...here I am. Annoying you all. ;)_

_PPS: Nonsense Latin used again. Destruxi-exstinctoris I vaguely translate to 'one who dismantles with fire.' Alohacommoveo is a combination of 'alohamora' from the books, and commoveo roughly translates to violently. So, 'to unlock violently'. It sounds so harmless when you say it like that..._


	11. Expiring

**Expiring**

_Disclaimer: I now own a life-size poster of Alan Rickman as Severus Snape. And I'm happy with that. As previously stated, not mine._

_Inspiration taken from a mixture of Darren Hayes' gorgeous new album, 'The Tension and the Spark', and also snippets of Oi Va Voi's I keep listening to on their site. Depressing stuff reflecting my teenage hormones at the moment. (Damn hormones.) _

_In the last chapter, I finally introduced a proper plot device, so we now have a storyline...only took me ten chapters... Laughs. So, now we get to see whether Draco retrieves his incriminating items from the house-elf, and how he deals with Voldermort in the process. And we also get to see the shock of Lucius post-second kiss. Grins. And Severus is in there somewhere...looking pretty and all that. Also (OMG!) there's Narcissa POV! Gasp! _

_**Warning: **Drugs mentioned again. Sorry...but no needles this time my loves! Smoking is also mentioned. _

* * *

Despite his thoughts of Gryffindor courage, Draco was deeply troubled. His steps were light but purposeful, and his head held high, though he really wanted to turn and hide. _He might already know as it is. This could well be suicide. _He ignored his pessimistic side, and studied the interior of his own home as though it was something he'd never seen before. But, now, he was seeing it through different eyes; the rose-tinted glasses had been taken from him, and stamped upon, and now his whole perception was skewed.

Every pair of cool Malfoy eyes upon him felt dangerous and unwanted. This place was one of pain and hatred, and only now did he understand quite why this was; and he hated it even more than he hated what it had made his father. Every last highly polished surface was horrific, every perfectly painted ostentatious portrait a parody of a fake reality. _Everything paid for with blood money – dirty money..._

The sparkling chandeliers above began to shudder, and vibrations to his feet told him that the Dark Lord was continuing with his demonstrations in the ballroom. _I swear, that house-elf is going to get such a hiding,_ he thought darkly, scowling. But even this focused anger metamorphosed into terror as he stepped onto the marble of the ground floor. Now he was on the same floor as _him. _The one who'd caused more pain and suffering than a dozen muggle dictators, and was just as ridiculously narrow-minded. _Genocide...that's all it's been... _

When he came to the last, long, gold-studded corridor, he paused, and stood perfectly still, listening. People were talking, and there were bursts of laughter – he judged by the lack of anger, that he was still hidden. He put up a mask of slightly sleepy wonderment, hoping that his mother would think he was a little ill, and thus would explain his absence with the same excuse. Then, after casting a look over his shoulder, and catching a glimpse of the current Malfoy family portrait hanging on the wall above the gallery, he had the courage to continue.

_For father. And for everything else...hell, even for Dumbledore... For everyone against **him.**_ Thoughts of bravery and the nobility of his actions in the forefront of his mind, Draco Malfoy strutted proudly down the corridor, in the way that only a Malfoy could. His eyes were quick and alert, but veiled with something that could have been sleep, but could just as easily have been something else. His posture was straight. Tall. Proud.

He was perfection.

He was everything.

And he was nothing.

He was something to some.

Draco was at the door. He stopped, hand casually resting upon the filigreed door handle, carven with the device of Slytherin. He looked down, expecting the snake to come to life and wrap it's cool body around his fingers, preventing entry. But no...for once, there were no wards in place, nothing to keep him out. _Then they must think I'm old enough, _he thought, a mixture of pride and sickness in the pit of his churning stomach. _But...am I? _

There was a slight click, and the door opened away from him, seemingly of its own accord. However, when something brushed past him, bumping into his legs as it went by. On instinct, Draco threw out a hand, and grabbed the house-elf by its tea-towel toga. The whole company assembled in the room beyond stared at him, but he ignored them. _Its hands are empty. _He dropped the offending elf, ensuring that it did at least land in a painful position on the floor.

"Draco, darling, where have you been?" Narcissa asked, suddenly walking up behind him – she must have spotted him walking down the hallway on her way to check on his rooms. She linked her arms with his, and propelled him into the room. Draco fixed a dull smile on his face, which seemed to suffice, as a few of the gathered death eaters returned his smile with their own icy ones...

"I just went to see how father was; and I was feeling a little under the weather myself earlier, so I thought I'd best stay out of the way," he explained, accentuating his point with a small cough at the end. His mother's eyebrows launched upwards, feigning concern, and she paused slightly to throw her thin arms around his neck, and give him what she obviously felt was a 'comforting' hug. Draco was so surprised by this that it took him a few seconds to realise what was going on, and then he carefully backed out of the embrace,

"I wouldn't get so close mother – I shouldn't want you to get ill as well."

"Ah, of course darling; how considerate of you. But, if you are so unwell, then what are you doing down here?" her tone was jovial, though to Draco it was obviously forced. Looking to her place at the table, he saw that his textbook was lying next to her plate. It was obvious that it had been opened, because the ribbon bookmark attached to the spine was lying like a black slash against the white tablecloth. _That bloody elf must have told her what it saw..._ Quickly, he thought of an acceptable lie to try and get the book back without rousing suspicion from the other death eaters.

"Well, I was going to do some work, but then I noticed one of my books was missing; in fact, I believe it's this one here," he reached out his hand to grab it, but stopped when he saw movement at the head of the table. In his haste, he had almost forgotten the most important factor of his whole plan...

The Dark Lord. _He can't find out! He'd kill me...and maybe father as well... For not keeping me under control...or something. I... Idiot! Get the book, make your excuses, and get out of here! _

"Master Draco," the tall wizard said, rolling the 'r' in Draco's name so that it sounded almost like a purr. "Surely you are not so unwell that you can't spare time for a drink or two?" it was posed as a question, but he was obviously supposed to agree. Sadly, Draco's brain could no longer take the stress of all that was going on, and promptly shut down, leaving him to stutter,

"But I don't drin-"

"Oh, nonsense, darling. I suppose we can make an exception just this once," Narcissa trilled, and another of the many dozens of house-elves in the room hurried over, a tray of glasses of red wine clattering up and down as it bobbed over. His mother reached down, taking care to show off her still-graceful movements to all of the young men assembled, and picked up one of the glasses. This, she handed to Draco, who looked at the red liquid inside with a vague horror.

Just like blood...the same colour... Just like the memory...so much blood...pain...father... 

When Draco next became aware of his surroundings, he found that he was sitting in a seat next to his mother, and he was holding an empty wineglass. Another empty glass lay before him, with only a few droplets of the heady red liquid clinging to the rim. He set down his second glass, and tried to pay attention to what was going on around him..._but it just doesn't...make any...sense... _He felt himself slipping, and the previously hazy world blackened altogether.

And Draco Malfoy slipped from his seat and onto the cold, marble floor.

Drugged by his own mother.

* * *

Lucius leant against the wall in the shadows, staring blankly in the direction that Draco had hurried off in. Severus tried to pay attention to the talk below, but finding that it was now just mediocre conversation, he focused his attention on Lucius. _My Lucius..._ At the fond smile on his lover's face though, he knew that the man was no longer his. He frowned, seeing a disturbing parallel between Lucius and Lance...

Slowly, he withdrew from the balcony, making sure that he didn't alert those below with too-quick movements. With these soft movements, he came to stand next to Lucius, still looking unseeingly at the wainscot of the hallway opposite. The potions-master reached out a hand, and waved it through the field of vision of the blond. He blinked, and looked up, that ridiculous smile still on his face. _Most definitely not my Lucius anymore... _

As always at times like these, the raven-haired man became withdrawn and cool. "I'd suggest going back to your rooms," he whispered, tone dull. "Otherwise his Lordship may find it highly irregular your not being there, if he decides to come up and see you." The Malfoy patriarch just blinked, not seeming to quite comprehend the instructions. Severus clenched the fist that still held his wand, and used his other hand to cup Lucius' cheek.

"Go to your room," he ordered, looking into the (for once) happy blue eyes of his one and only love interest. The blond finally seemed to realise the seriousness of the situation, and just nodded mutely.

Fearing that it might well be his last chance to do so, the potions-master leant down, and plied a desperate kiss on still-smiling lips. _So many emotions in one day... How can it make sense? _When he felt the cool fingertips of Lucius' hands fluttering over the skin at the nape of his neck, his breath caught in his throat, and he broke away. "Go," he hissed, looking away and back to the ballroom, which was still just about visible from where they stood. He had been planning to quickly make his exit now, but when he saw a certain student being dragged into the room by his lover's wife...

_Oh bloody hell. _Lucius too had noticed the entrance of the boy, and now his hands had locked together behind Severus' neck. "I can't," he answered, not even looking at Severus as he said it. "What's he doing?"

"I don't know," the potions-master answered, hesitantly reaching up and taking the Malfoy patriarch's fingers from his neck. "You should really go," he urged, attempting to start shoving the other down the hall. He wouldn't budge, and Severus frowned at Lucius. "Please, go!"

"No," the blond replied stubbornly, before moving stealthily forwards in order to get a better view of the ballroom. Severus followed, unwilling to leave the other alone in such a dangerous position...plus, he did have to admit, he was intrigued as to what Draco was doing as well...

* * *

Narcissa let out a small gasp as Draco collided with the floor. "Oh my!" She immediately vacated her chair, and crouched down next to her son. As she did so, a small glass bottle fell from her lap, and tinkled on the floor – she managed to grab it again quickly in the commotion of people moving to help her Draco. "Quickly; elf, smelling salts!" She held out her hand to accept one of the small bottles of vile smelling salts – soon enough, she felt the cool smooth surface of one such bottle, and she quickly pulled the stopper out.

Carefully, she lifted up Draco's head, and then held the bottle in her other hand, waving it beneath his nose. He spluttered, and opened his eyes, coughing heavily. She smiled a little, and then flashed a suggestive look at the young man across from her. "Do you think you could help bring him up to his room?" she asked, fluttering her lashes in an appealing manner. The young man immediately nodded, broadly grinning, and moving forwards with one of the others to pick her son up.

_Perfect. _Narcissa stood up, and grabbed the book from the table. "Do excuse us your lordship," she curtsied to the Dark Lord, bowing her head in genuine sorrow. "But my son seems to be more ill than we took for granted. We shall be back presently – follow me, if you will?" Quickly, the Malfoy matriarch marched towards the doors out of the ballroom, book firmly tucked beneath her arm. The young men carrying her son hurried after her, glad to be assisting the stunning woman.

_That worked better than I thought,_ Narcissa sighed quietly as the doors into the ball room clicked shut behind them. _That was close...stupid boy, _she threw a look over her shoulder at Draco, who had fainted once more. When she turned back around, she allowed a dark frown to cross her face. _Could have sullied our good name, _she thought angrily. She had opened the book, and knew exactly what its contents were. _Lucius'll hear of this, I'll make sure of that._

"Just up here – his rooms are on the third floor," she chirped over her shoulder. The two men carrying the unconscious Draco made sounds of assent, and then returned to a hushed conversation between the two of them. _Just get rid of him for the night, and hopefully straighten him out for the next time his Lordship comes. _This idea seemed to make perfect sense, and Narcissa smiled once more, her logic pleasing her greatly.

When they were passing the corridor that led to the gallery overlooking the ballroom, the Malfoy matriarch thought that she saw a flurry of movement. However, when she turned her slender neck to the side in order to look more directly at the corridor, there was nothing there. _Perhaps I had a little much wine, _she thought, as usual rationalising the things she could not otherwise explain.

Finally, after about five minutes or so, they came to the door to Draco's chambers. She wrapped her slender fingers around the door handle, and then pushed it down, laying her other hand on the cool wood in order to open the heavy door. The curtains were open, flooding the room with the last rays of light of the setting sun, and she tutted at the messy state that she found her son's room to be in. _I must get the house-elves to clean up in here more often. _

"Just put him down on the bed," she told the young men airily, waving her hand grandly at the four-poster. With surprisingly gentleness, they did as she had said, depositing the now slumbering Draco on the bed. He shifted onto his side, and she smiled fondly when a thumb crept to his mouth. Despite the annoyances of motherhood, she still held a few small scraps of affection for her son...after all, he _had_ grown up rather well. _A little gentleman. _

It was just a shame about his wavering alliances. _But Lucius will sort that out, _she decided, determinedly clamping her arm against her side, so that she could feel the sharp corner of the book dig into her side. She'd take this to Lucius' rooms presently, and tell the two young men to go back to the ballroom.

The one she had smiled at loitered in the doorway – the other was already waiting outside, and she noted with fascination that he seemed to be smoking a muggle cigarette. _Interesting... I suppose the book can wait for a little...while..._ She carefully dropped it onto the table beside Draco's bed, and after pausing to stroke a few strands of platinum hair from his forehead, exited the room.

The young men linked arms with her, one of them on either side. The one who was smoking (who was to her left) took the cigarette from his mouth, and passed it to the man on her right, who took a deep drag. He then took it from his smiling lips, and offered it to her. "Care for a little smoke?" he breathed sultrily into her ear. She just smiled, and gracefully accepted, inhaling deeply, and then blowing the entire inhalation out through her mouth. _Just like the femme fatale mother trained me to be, _she thought with a slight smirk as she handed the cigarette back to the man on the left.

This continued for another two rounds, before the cigarette had outlived its usefulness. By this time, Narcissa had managed to steer the little party towards her own quarters. "Would you care for a drink of port before we go back downstairs?" she asked, unlinking arms with the both of them, and then turning around to face the both of them. They didn't answer immediately, and she leant back against the door, posturing provocatively. That did it; the both of them looked at one another, and then nodded, eyes dark with un-bridled lust.

_Lovely..._

* * *

"Fucking hussy," Lucius growled just after Narcissa walked past, a new couple of conquests following her. Severus was surprised by this outburst, and looked at the blond with surprise evident on his face. The Malfoy noticed it, and looked back at him. "What? I'm just stating a well-known fact," he said darkly.

"You've got to credit her for her creativity though," Severus pointed out, referring to her trick with drugging Draco's drink. "She managed to get Draco out of there without anything being mentioned about him joining... And what was it about that book?"

"I don't know," Lucius answered truthfully. "But as for _her, _she only did that to get herself some company for the night," he spat bitterly, heavily falling against the wall. Severus quickly looked over the railing to the ballroom to check that this hadn't been heard. Luckily, yet again they had remained undetected, but luck wouldn't always be on their side.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he advised, this time reaching out and brushing Lucius' arm, trailing his fingers down the sleeve of his shirt, and finding his hand open and welcoming. With the embarrassment more thought of in a hormonal teenager, Severus locked his fingers with the other, and began to tug him down the corridor. Lucius willingly allowed himself to be pulled along, and looking at him, Severus saw to his dismay that that dreamy smile was on his face again. _I've been replaced... _

Almost as though he had heard his thoughts, Lucius' smile abruptly disappeared. He frowned, and reached his free hand up to his lips, touching them gently. Then, he shook his head, and smiled wanly at Severus. "I'm not pursuing it Sev," he said, knowing full well that they both knew to what he was referring. Sighing softly, Lucius sped up so that they were walking side-by-side. "However, I would like to check up on him...if that's all right?"

"Of course." _What the hell does he expect me to say? 'No, I don't think so, because if you do, I just know you'll change your mind, and I'll be all alone again?' Hardly a win-win situation here Luc! _Severus fumed silently, but allowed Lucius to steer the course towards Draco's chambers, knowing that it would cheer him up. _And after today, I suppose he needs it... But if only I were the one to...cheer him up...not..._ He sighed again, and casually took a packet of self-lighting cigarettes from his deep robe pockets.

The motion of hand from packet to lips drew Lucius' attention. "Since when did you start smoking again?"

"Who said I ever stopped?" Severus answered, sticking the white and tan stick between his teeth, and then flicking the end so that it lit up with glowing orange embers. He inhaled, coughed, and then exhaled, trying to pay more attention to the smoke than his thoughts. But the novelty of the smoking wore off incredibly quickly, and he had to return to his thoughts.

And the knowledge that things were over.

Draco's chamber doors loomed before them, and Lucius unlinked arms, opening the door with little grace, and hurrying inside, turning to the right and out of Severus' sight as soon as he was inside. The potions-master followed at a more sedate pace, stopping at the door, and leaning upon it, watching as the Malfoy man knelt down next to the bed, and stroked trembling hands over the pale cheek of the slumbering youth that lay there.

The dying rays of the room made the whole room seem bathed in the light of fire. And a strange idea came to the mind of Severus Snape. A man, who usually prided himself on his sensibilities, tore down all such things in his analogy of the two men before him.

_Angelic demons... Both beautiful, and both broken... _He shook his head, to try and clear this idea, but was unable to.

And, when Draco opened his eyes, and blinked disorientedly up at Lucius, Severus was unable to ignore the truly happy smile on the older man's face. _And so it ends. _Quietly, he backed out of the room, and raising his wand above his head, he apparated from the manor, leaving behind only memories.

For that was what the manor was. A keeper of history – a bank of memories so ancient and deep that even one generation's experiences seemed more like a millennia of history than the life of one. It had always been such with the Malfoys. The oldest. The greatest.

The richest.

Purebloods – forever perfect.

_And now beyond my reach._

* * *

Draco smiled when his eyes focused, and he was able to see who it was. However, the smile died when his father's one faded into a sad frown. "What is it?" he asked, reaching up a hand to touch his face. Lucius grabbed it, and laid it back on his blankets.

"This cannot...and will not...go any further."

"What? But-" he spluttered, shocked at yet another turn around in his father's mood.

"No buts. After what you've seen, can you truly believe this could happen? I can abstain, and you'll soon forget..." his voice was deadpan.

"What? What do you- no!" Draco's grey eyes widened as Lucius raised his wand, and he reached up his hand again, closing his sweaty palm around the older Malfoy's wrist. His father looked down at the obvious scars that the turned up sleeves of his son's shirt showed him.

* * *

"I'm sorry Draco," he didn't meet the boy's eye, and didn't protest when his son pressed lips forcefully against his own. He let the wand fall from his hands and onto the floor, tangling fingers in the too-long hair of the boy on the bed. Again, he met Draco's advances with equal fervour, savouring what little he was allowing himself.

However, when nimble fingers caught onto the buttons on his shirt, he reached down and grabbed them, placing them firmly on his shoulders. Draco again insistently moved his hands down to his chest, and Lucius felt his resolve weaken considerably. Again, he grabbed the wandering hands, and firmly held onto them, trying to prevent himself from becoming lost in this. _You can't have him. You can't. Mustn't. Won't._

**_He'll forget anyway. Why not?_**

_Because I fucking said so_, Lucius replied to the voice, finally working up the strength to push Draco away. He shied from the hands that reached out to catch him again, and Draco's eyes filled with tears when he again pointed the wand at the boy.

"Please...don't..." he begged, and Lucius was only reminded of himself at that age. Only he was always on the other side, begging to be let alone... He shuddered, joining his son in broken sobs. "Don't – love you." Those grey eyes.

Those big, grey eyes. Pleading with him. Begging him.

_Loving _him.

"I'm sorry." Lucius caught one of his son's hands, squeezed it, and then levelled his wand for the third time. Draco closed his eyes, tears leaking down already wet cheeks. Lucius inhaled...exhaled...

"Obliviate."

And the whole day was undone. Draco fell limply upon his pillows, a small smile on his face as he snored gently. Lucius let go of his slender hand, and placed one, last, chaste kiss on those innocent lips. He stood up, and left the room, only pausing for a second at the door to take one last look at the boy.

The dull evening light, which was no longer red, but a beautifully soft lavender, made him look almost angelic lying there. Pure. Perfect.

_And I'll not let anything ruin that before he's ready._

* * *

_I'm not sure, but I get the feeling that this might make a good end for the whole thing. I'm sorry, but I just...I much prefer angst, and the idea of Draco and Lucius getting together disturbs even me slightly. Dreams are fine, but in real-life, I'm just...not comfortable... And writing beyond my comfort zone would make the story too stretched, and it would end up carry. So, I'd rather end it like this, than expose you to shitty bits of writing._

_It's been a pleasure writing for you all, and it's been an especial pleasure receiving reviews that have shown me that my work is appreciated! Thank you so much! And, don't worry...no doubt I'll be back with some other piece of slash fiction one of these days. (I really fancy writing a **proper** Snape/Black one...my first attempts were crappy.)_

_With regards, canihavea-soda_

_**Special thanks to:** Quills 'N Ink (who I shall soon be co-writing with, hopefully!)  
__  
Chaos-chick3 (sorry that I ended it so abruptly pet!)  
  
logicapapillon (I am definitely glad the black boxers amused you. Black boxers always scream 'hussy!' in my head, and well...black silk boxers are just...yeah... -she drools-)  
  
Eerie (I hope you find the story to your liking when you have continued to read it!)  
  
CrimsonTearsOfPain (Thanks for sticking with me from the beginning of this little horror!)  
  
Gabo0 (I have adored every single one of your reviews, because you point out what you like, and just make me happy with the squeeingness! Hurrah!)  
  
JeanettePeredhil (Thankyou for the time you helped me sort out my own fear of the rape chapter. It still wasn't perfect, but your input definitely helped me get over the worst of my phobia there. -Hug- thanks so much!)  
  
Fairdeviln1 (I loved your reviews as well. And yes. I am a HUGE Snape fangirl. -Giggles childishly.- Ooh, clever men are just...like catnip to me!)  
  
dirtydancer (I loved your little questions about the plot ideas, and I'm glad you asked them, because it gave me ideas for a few things later on in the story, so I was able to clarify things in the best way. -Glomp- Thank you!)  
  
umi n secylia (I apologise again for my habit for cliff hangers. I hope I didn't leave this one hanging -pulls face-. I suppose there might be a possible continuation, but I'm not sure I have the will to write it...)  
  
Nat (-Poke-. Mad crazy girlie!)  
  
Sandy Girvan (The one who love my devious mind. -Preens- Woot! You made me blush with your praise, I don't think it was truly deserved, but I thank you for it anyway! I'm glad to have made you feel loved by mentioning you. Sometimes, I don't think authors really thank people as much as they should which is why I'm breaking the rules and thanking everyone now, heh...)  
  
Sheyda (There from almost the beginning as well, you crazy thing! I apologise for those cliff-hangers. I just love them so...)  
  
labpotter (Sometimes its the short and sweet reviews that stay with ya - and yours was definitely one of those ones. -Glomp- thankies!)  
  
Draco Malfoy-Potter (Drama queens -sighs- isn't there just one in all of us?)  
  
Thatswhatyouthink (Your review is probably the one that most surprised me, because its always good to know that people who aren't certain about a pairing actually find something in it to their liking. I'm glad I didn't end up putting you off the pairing for good!)_

_tea (I agree...even I was somewhat freaked out by Lance by the end. Because I based his image on a friend of my sister's. O.o Freaky indeed... Another person annoyed by my cliff hangers I see - I apologise profusely!)  
  
J (Thanks for that review of yours - it definitely halped me pay off a few of my debts to the review monster. Greedy bastard that he is -glowers-. Thanks for the contribution to the fund pet!)  
  
Kay Warren (Your review still makes me blush. Its a sad fact, but true. I still don't have all that much confidence in my sex scenes, but its nice to know that they aren't as unreadable as I feared O.o)_

_Intrigued (Lucius is VERY squicky. Mmmm...squicky...)  
  
SNÝVELLY (Thanks for poking me to do more of the story.)  
  
Dragon-Spit (My first reviewer, and even though you capitalized crap -grrs at the capitalized swearage- I can forgive you, because you were right, and I'm so glad that you urged me to carry on, rather than leaving this as a one chapter thing. Thank you. A lot!)  
  
And to everyone else who read, but didn't leave a review (for whatever reason), thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. And I promise some more slash in the future._


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